After Dinner
by SherlockianWhovian
Summary: Mycroft makes his move on John, with Sherlock's permission.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft arrived at 221B with his usual elegance and grace. He'd been meaning to visit his brother for some time.

"What are you doing here, brother?" Sherlock asked.

"I came to ask you whether you could take a look at my case." Mycroft said. He walked over to the sofa and took a seat, handing over a file to his brother, "It's a mystery so that should be perfect for you."

"No." Sherlock replied with a frown, briefly glancing at the file before he placed it on the floor.

"I should be going." Mycroft said softly, getting to his feet slowly.

"Are you sure? Stay for some tea." John suggested as he got up from his chair, placing his hand on Mycroft's elbow.

"Thank you, John, tea would be nice." Mycroft agreed with a slight smile.

"Sit back down and I'll get it." John replied, walking into the kitchen.

Mycroft sat down and watched John walk away.

"You like him." Sherlock said, deciding to raise the topic.

"He can somehow cope with both of us, it's impossible not to like him." Mycroft replied, looking over at his brother.

"You know what I mean, you _like_ him." Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Caring is not an advantage, brother dear." Mycroft replied, looking down at his umbrella, "It would be unwise for me to pursue John."

"I would...allow it..." Sherlock admitted, looking away, "On the condition that John remained here at Baker Street to be my blogger."

Mycroft nodded, "I wouldn't want to take John away from you." he replied, "I agree to your condition."

"And I agree to you having a relationship with John." Sherlock replied, "Good luck."

The brothers both nodded as John returned with a tray of tea.

"Have you resolved your differences?" John asked with a chuckle, placing the tray down. He handed a cup to Mycroft with a smile.

"Thank you, John." Mycroft said, taking the cup and making sure that his hand touched John's.

"You're welcome." John replied, sitting back in his chair, "See Sherlock? We say thank you when we get given things."

"Yes, yes." Sherlock said with a wave of his hand, taking his cup and drinking some of the tea.

"John, I wondered whether you might like to join me for dinner tonight?" Mycroft asked, looking over at the army doctor.

John looked over at Sherlock but his flatmate didn't react, "Mycroft, I'm flattered..." he started.

"Just say yes, John." Sherlock said, "Mycroft and I have already decided on the conditions for your relationship."

"Do I not have any choice in this?" John demanded, looking between them.

"Of course you do-" Mycroft started.

"No, you don't." Sherlock said to John, "We've decided what will make you happy so you may as well just agree."

"Sherlock, please, you're not helping." Mycroft sighed, "John, would you like to come to dinner with me? It's your choice."

"Where would we be going to? Another abandoned warehouse?" John asked with a chuckle.

"Sadly none were available for dinner reservations." Mycroft replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "I was thinking we could go to a restaurant in Mayfair? It's very nice and just a short walk from my home."

"That sounds very nice. Yes, I'll go with you." John agreed with a smile.

"The car will be here at 6pm." Mycroft replied, finishing his tea and standing up, "I'm afraid that I can't stay any longer, I have a meeting with the Prime Minister."

"See you tonight." John replied, watching as Mycroft left the room. He turned to Sherlock, "You knew he was interested in me?"

"Of course. Mycroft is infuriatingly obvious." Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

"What are the conditions that you mentioned?" John asked.

"He can court you but you have to stay here." Sherlock replied.

"And what if I wanted to move in with him?" John asked.

"Do you want to move in with him?" Sherlock responded.

"Not yet, no." John replied.

"Then we don't need to discuss it." Sherlock answered with a shrug.

"You are unbelievable." John muttered, shaking his head.


	2. Chapter 2

The black car was waiting outside 221B Baker Street at exactly 6pm that evening. Sherlock watched it from the living room window as he played a few notes on his violin.

"Well, don't wait up." John joked as he pulled on his coat and pocketed his mobile.

"Don't bring the fat git here later." Sherlock said, placing his violin down with a slight flourish.

"It's just dinner, Sherlock." John replied with a slight smile, "I'll see you later."

Sherlock turned back to the window as he heard John make his way downstairs. He watched as John got into the car before it took off into the city traffic.

* * *

John was a little disappointed to find Anthea sat in the car that whisked him away to dinner.

"Is Mycroft still with the Prime Minister?" John asked, watching Anthea typing on her Blackberry.

"I can't give you exact details, but his meeting has certainly gone on much longer than he expected." Anthea replied with a tight smile.

John sighed, "Lonely meal for one then?" he murmured.

"Of course not." Anthea replied with a slight frown, "Mycroft is waiting at the restaurant."

"Oh." John said, not expecting Mycroft to actually meet him for dinner.

As the car stopped outside an incredibly posh restaurant, John took a moment to compose himself before he opened the door and climbed out. He'd never be able to afford this restaurant if Mycroft wasn't paying, so John felt uncomfortable even approaching the place.

"Can I help you, Sir?" asked the receptionist, glancing over his casual attire.

"I'm supposed to meet a friend here." John replied, suddenly feeling nervous and judged.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?" the woman asked with a slight smirk.

"He's with me. The reservation is under the name of Holmes, Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft's voice came from beside John, making the receptionist frown in surprise.

"Oh, Mr Holmes, my apologies for my mistake. I had not realized that your reservation was for two." the woman said, immediately trying to make amends.

"Come along, John. Our table is through here." Mycroft said to the smaller man, placing a hand on the army doctor's back and guiding him through to a private room.

"I don't think that this is my kind of place. It's a little expensive." John admitted as he sat down at the neatly decorated table, "McDonald's is a little more my kind of thing."

"Do McDonald's take reservations?" Mycroft replied, sitting opposite him with no sign of humor on his face.

"...No..." John murmured, looking a little unsure as to what to say for a moment.

Mycroft let out a slight chuckle, "I'm teasing you. I know what McDonald's is, although I must admit that I am yet to taste their signature dish, the 'Big Mac'." he said.

John laughed, "You've never had McDonald's?" he said in disbelief.

"Never." Mycroft replied, sipping his wine.

"Then I'll treat you to a Big Mac." John said, picking up his menu and looking over it.

"I look forward to it." Mycroft replied with a slight smile, looking over his own menu.


	3. Chapter 3

John excused himself politely and made his way to the men's bathroom. He stood over the sink and looked himself in the mirror, taking a moment to evaluate the evening so far. The food and wine had been good and Mycroft was excellent company. They'd chatted and laughed with only a few comfortable silences as they tucked into their food. John had been pleasantly surprised at how similar Mycroft was to Sherlock. The two of them tried to hide their similarities but John saw straight through it.

With a quick splash of water onto his face, John tidied himself up and returned to the table.

Mycroft hadn't moved but the table had been cleared of used plates and cutlery. He met John's eyes and allowed a genuine smile to slip through his usually cold expression.

John smiled too, sitting down opposite the older Holmes brother.

"We could stay for a dessert and a nightcap here, if you wish. Or we could have a nightcap at my home. It's less than five minutes away." Mycroft suggested, watching John curiously to see which option he'd prefer.

"I'd feel more comfortable away from this place." John admitted with a slight chuckle, "I've never actually seen your house."

"I imagine that Sherlock has filled your head with all sorts of nonsense about me." Mycroft said with amusement in his tone.

"Everyone calls you the Ice Man, is that because your house lacks central heating?" John teased.

Mycroft laughed at the suggestion, "No. I have a working central heating system, I can assure you." he replied.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." John said with a laugh.

Mycroft gave a quick nod and a hand gesture to one of the waiters and a printed bill was brought to the table a few moments later.

John picked the slip up before Mycroft could look over it.

"That wine was £500?!" John gasped, looking up at Mycroft with horror on his face.

"I don't expect you to pay for the wine, John." Mycroft replied, pulling out a card from his inside jacket pocket.

"I can't put any money towards this. It's way above my price range." John admitted, embarrassment clear on his face.

"I don't expect you to pay for this, John." Mycroft said, "I wanted to come here so I will pay the bill. I thought that we agreed that you were treating me to a Big Mac?"

"Mycroft, a Big Mac doesn't compare to a restaurant bill of over £500." John insisted, putting the bill down, "I don't want you to pay for everything. It's not right."

"John, money isn't an issue for me." Mycroft replied, "I respect you and I understand that you want us to be equals financially. Let me treat you and I'll let you treat me to McDonald's."

John sighed a little and looked up at Mycroft again, "Fine, but you don't have to throw money around to impress me."

"Okay, no throwing money around." Mycroft agreed with a nod.

There was a pause in the conversation as the waiter came over and did the transaction with the card machine. One the card had been accepted and a receipt had been printed, the waiter bid them goodnight.

Mycroft got to his feet and pulled his black, formal coat on to protect himself from the biting cold outside. He waited until John was ready before he led the way out of the restaurant and onto the street.

"It must cost a fortune to live in Mayfair." John said as they walked together, the soft streetlights lighting the pavement.

"I bought the house when I was promoted to my current role." Mycroft admitted, "Before I'd just rented apartments in Westminster, but I wanted something more permanent when my responsibilities increased."

"Does Sherlock visit you?" John asked curiously.

"He breaks in when he wants something from me." Mycroft replied, taking a few steps ahead so he could type in a code onto a reinforced door.

John stayed a few steps behind, not wanting to see any of Mycroft's security codes. He took a step forward when the door swung open to reveal a large white house with a small front garden.

"Not what you were expecting?" Mycroft asked, watching as John stepped into the front garden.

"No." John admitted, "This is so much better."


	4. Chapter 4

"Come on." Mycroft said, leading the way up the front path and up the steps to the front door. The large outer door swung shut with a heavy click, hiding the house from the street outside.

"I don't want to accidentally see your security codes." John replied, following him but lingering a few steps behind.

"They change every week so I'm not too worried about the threat of you leaking them to criminals." Mycroft responded, typing in a few numbers to the panel on the side of the door before he unlocked the door with a key.

"I'm sure that I could definitely be a security threat to you. I bet your security people are going mad with worry." John chuckled as he followed Mycroft into the hallway of the house.

"I'm sure that you could, but you'd have a mysterious accident before you could tell anyone anything too important." Mycroft replied with a dark smile, slipping off his coat and propping his umbrella against the wall.

"Well, that's a reassuring thought." John laughed nervously.

"Don't worry, John, I won't let anything happen to you." Mycroft replied, leading the way to the kitchen at the back of the house, "My security team are used to Sherlock's unpredictability so I doubt that you are seen as a threat. Tea?"

"Yes, please." John replied, taking a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

Mycroft moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, making two cups of tea with very little effort. He placed one cup in front of John, along with a small bowl of sugar and a jug of milk.

"I would have thought that you'd know how I take my tea." John admitted with a teasing smile.

"I do know how you take your tea but I also know that you don't often appreciate mine and Sherlock's interference in things." Mycroft replied with a warm smile, taking a seat opposite John.

John laughed, "You are so much more socially adept than your brother." he said.

"Yes, I have been told that." Mycroft replied with a chuckle, stirring in a little sugar to his tea.

John sipped at his tea, blowing the steam away and enjoying the comfortable silence between them.

"Do you always take your gun with you to dinner or should I be worried?" Mycroft asked, breaking the silence.

John almost choked on his tea at Mycroft's words, quickly putting his cup down on the kitchen counter. "It's a habit, I'm afraid. It comes in handy when I'm dragged along after Sherlock." he said.

"It's alright, John. Your secret is safe with me." Mycroft replied with a smile. He unbuttoned his jacket and reached below the expensive fabric, pulling out his own handgun and placing it on the kitchen counter.

John's eyes went wide when he saw the weapon sitting so casually on the counter, "Call me naive, but I didn't expect you to carry a gun." he admitted.

"It's an essential requirement in my job. I have to be ready to protect myself and others both in this country and when I travel." Mycroft replied. He picked up the gun and removed the cartridge before he handed it to John, "I had it specially made to be both lightweight and comfortable to use." he added.

John carefully took the gun and examined it, "It's a lot more user friendly than mine." he said. He put it back down on the kitchen counter and pulled out his own, placing it beside Mycroft's to compare the two.

"I think I might have to procure you a government issue, custom handgun." Mycroft said, glancing at the guns before focusing on John, "I have a feeling that you and Sherlock have many more thrilling adventures ahead."


	5. Chapter 5

"So, tell me about you." John said, sitting on Mycroft's sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"You already know quite a lot about me, what more do you want to know?" Mycroft asked, looking down at the amber liquid in his own glass. He was sat in an armchair opposite the sofa, his legs crossed formally.

"What books do you like? Do you play an instrument? What don't I know about you?" John asked with a raised eyebrow, "I only know scraps of information that you or Sherlock have told me. I want to get a more rounded picture of who you are beneath the government official disguise."

"You must forgive me, John, I'm not used to sharing details about my private life." Mycroft sighed, placing his whiskey down on the side table beside his armchair, "I have very little time to myself nowadays but I, like my brother, have to have some periods of downtime."

"Sherlock spends hours organizing his mind palace, do you do something similar?" John asked curiously.

"I taught Sherlock that memory technique, so yes, sometimes I spend time organizing my thoughts." Mycroft replied with a nod, "However my downtime usually consists of Sudoku."

"Strangely, that doesn't surprise me." John admitted with a smile, "You seem more logical and mathematical than Sherlock. He's much more unpredictable."

"Believe it or not, Sherlock and I used to both be very unpredictable and chaotic in our thinking, but I realized that it was time to grow up. While Sherlock rebelled and destroyed himself with various substances, I put my head down and worked hard to build a career for myself." Mycroft replied, his voice hardening with his obvious frustration toward Sherlock, "My brother has the talent and intelligence to take over the world, but he lacks the drive, ambition and determination to achieve such a feat."

John listened and didn't speak until Mycroft was finished, "He may have his faults, but I think that Sherlock is happy. He's unique and a 9 to 5 just wouldn't suit him." he said.

Mycroft nodded, "You're right, of course." he said, sipping his whiskey, "In response to your other questions, I have a vast collection of books and I can play the piano."

"Can I see your book collection?" John asked, "I don't have a large collection of fiction myself, but I have read many books over the years."

"Of course, my library is upstairs." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet and leading John out of the living room and up the staircase.

John ran his hand over the polished mahogany banister as he followed Mycroft upstairs, looking around at the elegant decoration.

Mycroft pushed open the door to his library, flicking on the light and leading John in.

"Wow." John said with a slight whistle, looking around at the bookshelves crammed full of books, "Do you have any favourites?"

"I am partial to a little Oscar Wilde." Mycroft admitted, picking out a flawless edition of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ , "His wit is unlike that of any other author of the time."

"I didn't take you for an Oscar Wilde fan, I'd have said that you were more into Tolstoy's _War and Peace_." John said, looking at the other books on the same shelf.

"I read _War and Peace_ whilst I was at university and I'm in no rush to repeat that experience." Mycroft chuckled, placing the book back on the shelf.

"What did you study at university?" John asked curiously.

"I studied at Oxford, starting with a BA in History and Politics and followed by an MPhil in International Relations." Mycroft replied, pulling out a book from a shelf and removing a photograph tucked safely inside. He handed over the photograph that showed himself at 21, proudly clutching the ceremonial scroll on his graduation day.

"Gosh, you look so different!" John exclaimed, looking over the photograph in surprise.

"Things were different back then. Everything was simpler. Sherlock and I were still on good speaking terms and had our whole lives ahead of us." Mycroft replied, "Nowadays I don't have even half of the positivity and hope for the future that I did at 21."

"Why not? What happened?" John asked, handing the photograph back to Mycroft.

"When I was 25, after I graduated for the second time, Sherlock fell apart and almost succeeded in killing himself." Mycroft replied with a sigh, tucking the photograph back into the book, "Nothing was the same after that."


	6. Chapter 6

"How was your date?" Sherlock asked, sitting at the kitchen table and looking at a sample in his microscope.

"It wasn't a date, it was dinner." John replied, making himself some breakfast and some toast for Sherlock.

"And how was dinner?" Sherlock asked with a slight chuckle, knowing exactly what to do and say to wind John up.

"Did you know that your brother carries a gun?" John asked, sipping at his cup of tea.

"Of course. Why? Did he show it to you?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. He even let me hold it." John replied, flipping the bacon over in the frying pan.

"Don't be alarmed, he's rather proud of it." Sherlock said, "MI6 presented it to him when he reached 25 years in the secret service."

"He told me about his time at university, and about you." John admitted, trying to broach the subject carefully.

"What did he say?" Sherlock asked, his voice suddenly cold and detached as he stared down into his microscope.

"He said that you almost succeeded in killing yourself. Is that true?" John asked quietly.

"Mycroft exaggerates." Sherlock replied, but he didn't elaborate.

* * *

"What gave you the right to discuss my past with John?" Sherlock demanded, storming into Mycroft's office at the Diogenes Club.

Mycroft looked up from his paperwork and put his pen down on the desk, "John asked about my time at university and I could hardly lie to him." he replied.

"You didn't even have to discuss me!" Sherlock shouted.

"Sherlock, you are my brother. Whether you like it or not, my time at university was overshadowed by your substance abuse." Mycroft replied with a sigh.

"You oaf! You have now made John treat me like I am made of glass! I put a nicotine patch on my arm and he watches me like a hawk!" Sherlock shouted.

"Sherlock, John is your friend. He wants what is best for you. He isn't some school bully that is trying to use your weaknesses against you." Mycroft said.

"Why do you always have to meddle in my life?" Sherlock hissed, "Can't you just take a step back and leave me alone for once?"

"I am happy to leave you alone, if that is what you wish, but I won't lie to John." Mycroft said, getting to his feet, "If he asks about you then I will tell him the truth."

"Why? To get back at me?" Sherlock demanded.

"No. John is a good man and he risks his life on a daily basis for you. The least you could do is be honest with him. We know everything about him from just one look, yet he knows barely anything about us." Mycroft sighed, "I understand how difficult it is to share memories and life stories with another, but you can trust John."

"I know I can trust him, but can I trust you? Your feelings towards John threaten everything! You're becoming a loose cannon!" Sherlock snapped, "We don't have attachments and we don't encourage sentiment for a reason, Mycroft! How long will it be before you become a security risk at MI6 too?"

"Enough!" Mycroft shouted, finally losing his temper, "I have spent my life protecting Her Majesty and our great nation. I care about John, but my feelings towards him will never effect what I do here."

"Don't discuss my past with him again. I have no hesitation about nipping this relationship in the bud before it has even begun." Sherlock said menacingly, "Feel free to share your life with him, but it's my decision what I share and with who."


	7. Chapter 7

"He really said all of that?" John asked as he tucked into dinner with Mycroft. It was a different restaurant, but no less posh and formal than the last place they'd eaten at.

"Oh yes. He was really very angry." Mycroft replied, cutting his steak into smaller pieces.

"I'm not sure whether I should be happy or sad about his reaction." John said, sipping his wine, "On one hand, I'm pleased that he cares what I think, but on the other hand I'm offended that he doesn't trust me."

"He does trust you, John." Mycroft pointed out, "He takes you on adventures with him and trusts you to save his life."

"Saving his life and being his blogger is one thing, Mycroft, it would be nice for him to actually share his life with me too. I want to know about him, just like I want to know about you." John replied with a sigh.

"Talk to him, ask him your questions." Mycroft urged, "I don't want him to think that I'm telling you all of his secrets. Ask him and he might tell you a few of them himself."

John laughed a little, "I doubt that will go well. I'll bet you 50p that he storms out of the room." he said.

"You're on." Mycroft laughed, sipping at his own wine, "How about, if you win the bet, you treat me to a Big Mac at McDonald's?"

"You're really determined to have some fast food, aren't you?" John chuckled, "Alright then, if Sherlock storms out, I'll take you to McDonald's."

"Diets are made to be broken." Mycroft replied with a smile.

* * *

"What secrets of my past did Mycroft reveal tonight?" Sherlock asked without looking up from his microscope when he heard John come in.

"None, actually. He suggested that I should speak to you about your secrets." John replied, slipping off his coat and hanging it up.

Sherlock looked up and frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Mycroft said that he doesn't want to tell me things and betray your trust, so you tell me them instead." John said, making a cup of tea.

"I have nothing to share." Sherlock replied, looking back into his microscope again.

"Sherlock, I have lived with you for a reasonable amount of time now and I know barely anything about you!" John sighed, "Why is it so hard for you to share things with me?"

"Mycroft is there for you to share things with, that's what relationships are for." Sherlock replied, getting to his feet.

"Sherlock, come on, just trust me." John said, putting the teabag into the hot water in his cup, "Let's start with something easy. Where did you go to university?"

"Ask Mycroft, John. I'm sure he's more than happy to share everything with you." Sherlock snapped before he stormed off into his bedroom and shut the door.

John waited a couple of moments before he called to his flatmate, "Do you want some tea?"

When no response came, John got to work making a second cup of tea anyway. He sat down in his armchair, holding his own tea to warm his hands. He ignored the movement behind him as Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, collected his cup of tea and shut himself away again.


	8. Chapter 8

"What do you think then?" John asked, looking over at Mycroft expectantly.

Mycroft and John had met for lunch at McDonald's on Baker Street, to make good on their bet from the previous evening. They were sat together in one of the corners, far away from others so they would not be bothered.

"I must admit, it's not the worst lunch that I've ever had." Mycroft said with a smile.

John laughed, "Well, at least it's edible for you." he said, "I used to eat a lot of McDonald's in my student days, as the university had one pretty close by."

"I spent my university years counting calories and eating healthily." Mycroft admitted, "I think I would have enjoyed my youth much more had I indulged in a little fast food every now and then."

"Can't beat a beat of junk food, it's the ultimate pick-me-up." John replied with a smile, scrunching up their burger wrappers and leaning over to put them in the bin.

Mycroft's phone rang and he retrieved it from his pocket. "Sorry, I've got to take this." he said, but he remained sitting at the table instead of taking the call in the privacy of his car like he usually did.

"Go ahead. I'll be quiet." John replied with a slightly nervous smile. He'd only seen glimpses of Mycroft at work and he didn't have any real idea of what the man actually did on a day-to-day basis.

"Mycroft Holmes. Good day Prime Minister, always a pleasure to speak with you directly." Mycroft said, his voice smooth and professional, "I will be returning to my office shortly, I went out for lunch today. Of course, call me when you have a free moment this afternoon. Goodbye, Prime Minister."

John's eyes went wide when he listened to Mycroft speak to the Prime Minister so casually. "I'm just guessing, but was that the Prime Minister?" he teased.

"Yes, John, it was. My brother is wearing off on you." Mycroft laughed, putting his phone back inside his jacket.

"I suppose you have to get back to work now. I bet everything's falling apart at your office with you away from your desk." John said with a sigh.

"Duty calls for both of us. What time does your shift finish this afternoon?" Mycroft asked, leading the way out to his waiting car.

"It's an early finish today so I should be done by about 4 or half 4." John replied, slipping into the back of the car beside Mycroft.

"I'll have a car come and pick you up. I have to work at the office until around 6 and you're welcome to come and join me." Mycroft said.

"At your office? While you're at work?" John asked in surprise.

"Yes, I trust you not to reveal anything that you may see or hear." Mycroft replied with a smile.

"Wow. Yes, I'd love to see your office." John agreed with a big smile.

"Have a good afternoon and I'll see you later." Mycroft said, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on John's cheek as the army doctor climbed out of the car.

John shut the car door and paused for a moment, watching the car disappear into the busy traffic. He touched his cheek, realizing that it was the first time that Mycroft had shown any physical interest in him. He blushed and made his way into the clinic and back to work.


	9. Chapter 9

_Spending time with Mycroft after work, don't wait up. JW_

 _Boring. SH_

John chuckled at Sherlock's response to his text and pocketed his phone before leaving his office. He walked through the clinic, waving goodbye to his colleagues and headed for the car park. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw the familiar car waiting for him. He went straight over and climbed in, glancing over at Anthea who was in the car beside him.

"Do you ever look up from your phone?" John asked, watching her use her phone.

"Yes, when I'm in the office." Anthea replied, "When I'm on the move, I work remotely."

"Fair enough." John said, watching her for a couple more seconds before he looked out of the car window.

"I hope that you don't intend to hurt Mr Holmes." Anthea said after a few minutes of awkward silence, "If you do intend to hurt him, then I will personally ensure that your death is both painful and long."

John let out a nervous laugh, "Anthea, I'm not going to hurt your boss." he said, turning to face her, "I like Mycroft and I'm enjoying getting to know him."

"Good. Don't break him either, he's an essential part of the secret service." Anthea warned him with a cold look before she went back to her phone again.

"Well, this has been a lovely car journey. It's definitely in my top 10 of threatening car journeys." John muttered, looking out of the window again.

After another few awkward minutes of uncomfortable silence, the car pulled off the main road and descended into an underground car park. The car stopped in front of a grand underground entrance and Anthea got out. John quickly hopped out of the car too, following her through the rotating doors and into a foyer full of glass and marble.

"What is this place?" he asked her quietly, trying not to look too out of his depth.

"It's the London branch of the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6 as it's more commonly known." Anthea replied, buzzing them through various bulletproof and reinforced doors with her swipe card.

"Shouldn't I sign in or something?" John asked, glancing around as Anthea led him down a corridor.

"No. All the CCTV cameras have face recognition software, there's no need to sign in." she replied, leading him down three flights of stairs.

"Is this place completely underground?" John asked, seeing the decor becoming more bunker-like.

"No. There are offices on the surface, but as Mycroft has category 1 security access, his office is underground and built to protect him in the event of a nuclear war." Anthea explained.

"Gosh, this has been such a positive day. First you threatened me and now we're discussing nuclear war." John chuckled slightly.

"Not far to go now." Anthea said, leading him through four more reinforced steel doors before she knocked and opened a mahogany door.

"Ah John, there you are. I was beginning to think that you'd be stopped by security." Mycroft chuckled, standing from his desk and walking around to meet them.

John stepped into the office and looked up at the strange chessboard style ceiling lights. "I wasn't expecting this to be your office." he admitted with a smile, walking to Mycroft.

"What were you expecting?" Mycroft asked, leaning against his desk as he watched John look around the bunker office.

"Something more plush. Carpet, curtains, chandeliers, that sort of thing." John replied.

"I have an upstairs office that's more decorative for when I have guests, but today I actually need to get some work done, hence why Anthea has brought you here." Mycroft said, "Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"Have you met the Queen?" John asked, nodding to the portrait on the wall as Mycroft returned to his seat.

"Yes, many times. I regularly attend banquets held by the Royal Family." Mycroft replied, "You would be welcome to attend the next one with me, if you'd like to."

John couldn't hide his shocked expression, "You are something else, you know that?" he laughed.

"I take it you'd like to attend with me?" Mycroft asked with a smile.

"Just you try and stop me!" John laughed, sitting down opposite Mycroft.


	10. Chapter 10

"So did the Prime Minister call you back?" John asked, gently spinning the monochrome globe on Mycroft's desk.

"No, actually. I think I've been bumped from the schedule in favour of a cabinet minister." Mycroft replied, looking over the paperwork on his desk.

"A cabinet minister? The horror of it!" John joked with mock horror.

Mycroft laughed, "You joke, but some cabinet ministers are seriously lacking in professionalism and personality."

"Maybe he got the impression that you didn't want to speak to him while you were at lunch?" John suggested.

"I hope so. I don't take a lunch break very often, but when I do, I expect to be left alone to enjoy it." Mycroft replied with a smile.

"And did you enjoy your lunch break?" John asked, looking up at him.

"I did." Mycroft said with a nod, "I really enjoy the time that we spend together John."

"I enjoy spending time with you too." John admitted, leaning in with his eyes fixed on Mycroft's lips.

The desk phone rang and Mycroft sighed, moving to answer it.

John moved quickly, getting to his feet and pulling the telephone cord out of the phone to disconnect it.

"John, that might have been important..." Mycroft murmured, looking alarmed by the doctor's actions.

"Stop talking." John said, reaching out and grabbing Mycroft's tie. He used the tie as leverage to pull Mycroft forward and into a kiss.

After a couple of moments, John moved back a little and looked up at Mycroft, "Was that okay?" he asked.

Mycroft nodded, his cheeks a little flushed with surprise at John's actions, "Yes. Absolutely."

"Good." John said with a nod, "Is this paperwork important?"

"Very." Mycroft replied with a sly smile before he pushed the paperwork off the desk and onto the floor.

"I don't think Anthea is going to be very happy with you." John laughed.

"I don't think so either." Mycroft replied, pulling John closer.

* * *

"I was always under the impression that you weren't really interested in the physical side of a relationship." John admitted as he sat in the car with Mycroft after their steamy session in Mycroft's office.

"Well you got the wrong impression." Mycroft chuckled, his hand casually resting on John's knee.

"Let's go to 221B." John suggested.

"Sherlock won't like it. He'll moan at both of us." Mycroft replied.

"Then let him moan. I live there too and I want to take you home with me." John said with a smile.

"Okay, but prepare for his dramatics." Mycroft chuckled and ordered the driver to take them to 221B Baker Street.

* * *

"What is he doing here?" Sherlock hissed when he saw his brother enter the flat with John.

"Mycroft and I are here for dinner and a nightcap." John replied, going straight to the kitchen and putting the kettle on.

"You two are disgusting." Sherlock muttered, looking over Mycroft and seeing what they'd been up to in the office.

"Yes, perhaps, but we're here to eat dinner and watch a little TV. You're welcome to stay here too." Mycroft said to his brother, sitting down opposite him.

"I'm not going anywhere, this is my flat. Just because John has brought you home doesn't mean that I'm just going to flee my own living room." Sherlock replied with a pout.

"Will you two please get along?" John asked with a sigh, handing both of them a cup of tea, "Mycroft is going to be here a lot more often, so you two are going to need to tolerate each other."

"You agreed to let me court John, brother. You can't go back on your word." Mycroft pointed out.

Sherlock frowned, "Fine. Bring him home with you, John, but keep your hands to yourselves when I'm in the room."


	11. Chapter 11

The following morning, Sherlock swept into John's room wearing his Belstaff coat and putting on his scarf, "Get up, John! We have a case!" he exclaimed.

John groaned a little and looked at the clock on the nightstand, "Sherlock, it's 5am." he sighed, beginning to sit up.

"Yes, but this is at least a 7!" Sherlock replied, "Two bodies have been found in the Thames without arms. George thinks it's a serial killer."

"Just give me 5 minutes and we'll go and meet _Greg_." John said, pushing back the duvet cover and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Who's Greg?" Sherlock asked, his face a picture of confusion.

"Don't worry about it, it's too early to go over that again." John replied, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. He got to his feet and stretched a little, waiting until Sherlock had gone back down to the living room before he began getting dressed. He pulled on the nearest pair of jeans and a jumper, followed by the shoes he'd bought purely for cases.

Before he left the room, John looked back and his eye fell on the business card on the windowsill that Mycroft had given to him the previous evening. He paused, debating whether he should take it with him on the case. He shook his head and left the room, leaving without the number to Mycroft's direct line.

* * *

"Is this one of Mycroft's cases?" John asked as they climbed out of the cab at London Bridge.

"No. Why?" Sherlock asked, already strolling towards the steps that led down to the river bank.

"One of his cars is over there." John replied, nodding towards the blacked-out car parked on the opposite side of the street.

Sherlock glanced over and focused on the car for a moment before he rolled his eyes.

"What? Is Mycroft here?" John asked, rushing to keep up with Sherlock's long strides.

"No. He's been struck down by sentiment. The car is here for you." Sherlock replied and then proceeded to ignore the rest of John's questions about the matter.

"I didn't expect you to arrive quite this quickly." Lestrade admitted, meeting them a few metres away from the two bodies.

"The case sounded like a 7." Sherlock replied, moving straight to where the two bodies lay on the muddy riverbank.

"He's cheery in the morning, isn't he?" Greg said sarcastically to John as the two paused a few feet away, letting Sherlock work in peace for a few minutes.

"You know, Sherlock. He's always a barrel of laughs." John murmured, sharing a chuckle with Lestrade before he moved closer to assist Sherlock.

"What do you make of this then?" Sherlock asked, glancing up at John to hear his thoughts on the bodies.

John crouched down and began examining the scene in front of him, "Looks like some sort of gang killing, although the motive isn't clear. The limb removal is pretty clean, done with a scalpel by someone who knows their way around the human body." he said, "It's hard to tell when they were killed as they've been in the water for a while, but probably in the last few days."

"Exactly what I thought." Sherlock agreed with a nod, standing up again, "Lestrade! Get these two to the morgue so Molly can take a look at them. She'll be able to tell us more. John, we're going down to the docklands."

"Do you think that's where they were thrown in?" John asked, straightening up and walking with Sherlock away from the bodies.

"Yes, most probably. Given the way the currents in the Thames work, for them to appear at London Bridge at low tide, they must have been thrown in around the docklands area." Sherlock replied, taking the steps two at a time.

"Looks like the British Government isn't interested in following us around anymore." John chuckled, pointing at the empty space where the blacked-out car had been earlier.

Sherlock paused a little, "Hmm..." he said, "Mycroft normally enjoys following us around with his cars."

"Maybe it's not Mycroft?" John suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous, John. No one but Mycroft would be willing to follow us around at this time of the morning." Sherlock scoffed, hailing a cab and climbing straight in.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." John replied, climbing in after Sherlock and pulling the cab door shut after him.


	12. Chapter 12

As dawn began to light the dark streets of London, John and Sherlock were busy hunting for signs of gang activity in warehouses beside the Thames in the docklands part of the city.

"Another canning factory." Sherlock muttered, slamming the warehouse door shut and striding over to the next one.

"Well, I suppose that they call it Canning Town for a reason." John replied, walking over to the railings that separated the quiet footpath from the riverbank. He looked out over the fast-flowing river, shimmering in the early morning light. He turned back to the footpath again and sighed when he realized that Sherlock had left him behind - again.

"Sherlock?" he called, walking around the corner in the direction that he'd last seen his flatmate go.

He weaved his way through a small area of abandoned warehouses, calling Sherlock's name every few metres. He glanced back a few times, hearing footsteps echoing in the enclosed area.

"Sherlock?" he called again, louder this time as his hand readied itself to draw his gun. He turned another corner and let out a gasp of surprise as a needle plunged into his neck and he felt his body becoming weak.

* * *

"Hold this, John, I think it might be this one." Sherlock said, holding out his torch for John to take. When John didn't take the torch from him, he looked up and turned around, realizing that John was no longer behind him. "John?" he called out, wondering how far back he'd lost John. With a sigh, he scratched a mark into the door of the warehouse and began retracing his steps through the maze of warehouses. He called John's name and went back over the different pathways multiple times, sending off a few texts to the army doctor and frowning when he got no response. Finally, after he'd determined that John was definitely gone, he reluctantly dialed a number he used only for serious emergencies.

"Mycroft, John's gone..." he sighed when his brother answered the phone.

" _Gone? Gone where?_ " Mycroft demanded, " _What scheme have you dragged him into this time?_ "

"We were looking for a warehouse belonging to a gang in docklands." Sherlock replied, "I turned around and he was gone. You should know what we were doing, your car was in London Bridge earlier."

" _No, it wasn't. I haven't had a car following you in days._ " Mycroft said with a sigh, " _I'll have my team start looking at the CCTV._ "

"Damn it!" Sherlock shouted, "They must have been following us the whole time, knowing that Lestrade would call me."

" _Activate your tracker so you don't go missing too._ " Mycroft replied, " _We'll find him._ "

"How can you be so calm about this? I thought you were all sentimental about him?" Sherlock demanded.

" _John can look after himself, which I'm sure that his kidnappers will soon find out._ " Mycroft chuckled, ending the call.

* * *

John came to slowly, his mind a little scrambled from whatever drug that they'd given him. His eyes flickered open but dizziness forced him to close them again before he'd gotten a proper look at his surroundings.

"What were you doing skulking around our property?" came an angry voice that forced John to open his eyes again.

"Your property?" John asked once he'd remembered how to form words again after his impromptu sleep.

"You heard me. You were skulking around our property, looking for trouble." the man, a large cockney gangster, said with a frown.

"I was looking for my friend..." John replied, looking down at the thick ropes that bound his body to a sturdy chair.

"Is that right? Why did you need this then?" the man asked, holding up John's handgun by the barrel.

"If you untied me then we could have a perfectly civilized conversation about this." John replied, sensing the danger that he was in as the man's anger rose.

"You're not going anywhere, sunshine. Not until you're told me exactly who you are, what you're doing here and why I shouldn't kill you." the man replied calmly with a dark, threatening smile.


	13. Chapter 13

John wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been tied to the chair for as he couldn't see his watch, but he knew that it was a long time. His joints and muscles were painful from being forced to stay in such an uncomfortable position for so long. He'd told the men keeping him captive why he'd been going around the warehouses and he'd had to repeat himself over and over again until they'd eventually believed him. Now they'd left him alone in the dark warehouse that smelt stale and old, and he wasn't sure if that was any better than them pointing guns at him.

* * *

"We need to find John." Sherlock huffed as he paced back and forth in his brother's bunker office.

"The only way to find John is to solve the case. That should lead us straight to a location and to the gang." Mycroft replied, holding his laptop in one hand and studying the crime photographs that he'd pinned up on the wall.

"Why is it taking you so long? I thought you were the smart one." Sherlock sneered, his whole body tense and coiled like a spring.

"I am the smart one." Mycroft replied with a frown, tracing his finger over a modern map before comparing the area to a Victorian map of the docklands.

John was Sherlock's weak spot, there was no doubt about that. Since the army doctor had disappeared, Sherlock had been flustered and unable to focus on the case. It had only been a few hours but he'd brought over all of the case files to Mycroft in an attempt force his older brother to help him. It had worked as Mycroft saw the value of the information that the case could reveal to them.

"Bradfield Road. That's where I think John is." Mycroft announced, looking pleased with himself as he strolled back to his desk and sat down.

"You solved it?" Sherlock asked, turning to face his brother.

"Of course. If you hadn't distracted me for the last two hours, I would have solved it sooner." Mycroft replied, picking up his mobile.

"Then tell me who did it. What is the conclusion that you have drawn from the evidence?" Sherlock asked, sitting down opposite his brother.

"The two victims are members of a gang, but they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were killed by someone from their own gang and thrown into the river to cover up the mistake. Meanwhile, the gang will have blamed an opposing gang for the deaths, adding fuel to an already difficult situation." Mycroft explained, putting his phone back down again.

"Then what about the missing limbs?" Sherlock demanded.

"The bodies have been in the Thames for the past few days. There are river cruise boats, pleasure boats and ferries all along that area so it isn't implausible to suggest that the limbs were accidentally removed from the bodies after death." Mycroft replied.

"Who was following us?" Sherlock asked, attempting to throw Mycroft off.

"That is rather simple, dearest brother." Mycroft replied, "The leader of the gang probably has a contact at New Scotland Yard as there's always police officers willing to release information in return for money. Having heard that two bodies had turned up, matching the description of the two missing members of his team, he went down to London Bridge to see for himself."

"So how do you know the exact street where John is?" Sherlock questioned, attempting to keep his face neutral and not show how amazed he was by Mycroft's conclusion.

"You were very close, dearest brother, but you were looking in the wrong place. Any bodies thrown in around the Canning Town area would have most probably been trapped in Bow Creek by the current. The warehouses around West Silvertown are a far more likely place for the bodies to be thrown from." Mycroft replied, "Therefore, knowing the police had you and John on the case, you were probably followed to ensure that their Canning Town storage wasn't discovered and John would have been returned to the main HQ of the organization, a warehouse on Bradfield Road."

"So they had storage property at Canning Town, but the main headquarters was further downriver." Sherlock repeated, getting to his feet.

"Exactly." Mycroft replied with a smirk, "Now we must form a plan to get John back."

"I intend to go there and get him out myself." Sherlock said, suddenly defensive. He was the one John called brilliant and he was the one who was supposed to rescue John.

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll be shot before you even set foot within ten feet of the place." Mycroft scoffed, "Crime scenes are supposed to be your area of expertise, Sherlock, so let me handle my area of expertise. Strategy and target extraction."


	14. Chapter 14

The next time John woke from his exhausted slumber, his eyes were drawn to the other half of the warehouse that was now lit up with spotlights. The gang member that had taken his gun was there, as were four others. All of them were armed and looked ready for a fight to break out. A man strolled in, elegant, tall and with thinning red hair, and it took John a moment to realize that he was looking at Mycroft Holmes. The government official was holding a briefcase and was flanked by two bodyguards. John began to try to rock the chair in an attempt to get the man's attention but he only succeeded in giving himself rope burns. He let out a groan, but it was muffled by the rope between his teeth that gagged him. John watched Mycroft hand over the briefcase and shake hands with the leader of the gang before he left the same way that he had come.

John wanted to shout and scream Mycroft's name, desperate to be free of the chair and to be out of the dark warehouse. He'd been there hours and there had been no rescue attempt so far and it was beginning to drag John's mood down. His blood sugar levels were plummeting and he was dehydrated, but now he was lacking even hope of a rescue. If Mycroft was in on this as some sort of mafia boss, then what hope did John have of ever getting out alive? He took a moment to panic about Sherlock's involvement - was the detective truly a criminal like Sally Donovan had suggested all of those months before?

* * *

Swimming in and out of consciousness was scrambling John's timeline of events, but he knew it had been hours since he'd seen Mycroft making some kind of deal with the gang. His dry throat and painful stomach told him that he'd already been here for at least two days.

"Time for you to go and swim with the fish now." the gang member laughed as he strolled out of the shadows towards John with a knife in his hands.

John's eyes went wide and he shook his head pleadingly as the man got closer with the sharp blade.

"Relax, I'm not going to slit your throat." the man laughed, slicing away some of the ropes that bound John to the chair, "I'm not a murderer."

He pulled the army doctor up to his feet and led him through the warehouse and out into the dawn light.

John stumbled from a lack of energy, his muscles frozen after being stuck in one place for so long. He blinked rapidly, the dawn light temporarily blinding him as they emerged from the dark warehouse.

"Would you like to do the honours?" the gang leader smirked from nearby and John turned his head to see that the whole gang was gathered around. The gang member holding John put him on the very edge of the dock wall and moved away.

Mycroft stepped forward, "I would love to do the honours." he replied with a dark smile.

John looked at Mycroft pleadingly, begging him for help as he tried to loosen the thick ropes around his arms.

Mycroft's cold, detached eyes bore into John's, missing the emotion that had shone through on their date nights. Mycroft raised his umbrella and jabbed John in the chest with the end of the umbrella, forcing him to overbalance and to plunge backwards into the fast-moving river below.


	15. Chapter 15

John hit the cold water with a gasp, immediately trying to keep himself afloat but failing due to the constricting ropes. His heart was beating wildly, both from fear and devastation. How could Mycroft be corrupt? Mycroft, who appeared to care so deeply for his job and his little brother. He'd genuinely thought that Mycroft liked him, but now he didn't know what to believe. Was he just collateral damage to Mycroft?

The current in the river was fast and it dragged John under with ease, forcing the army doctor to try and hold his breath. It was painful and John had been in the water all of 30 seconds when he accepted that he was going to drown and let unconsciousness drag him under again. He didn't have the energy to continue fighting the water and the ropes made it impossible to kick or swim.

* * *

Small but strong hands grabbed at John's body and pulled him up to the surface. His eyes shot open and he coughed up water as his back was slammed forcefully into an alcove in the dock wall.

"Anthea?" he gasped around the rope, his voice croaky from the river water.

Mycroft's ever faithful assistant was wearing full diving gear and her strong grasp was keeping John afloat. She withdrew a stanley knife from her waistbelt and freed him of the ropes that restrained his limbs.

"You didn't think he would let you drown, did you?" Anthea chuckled, her face flushed from the cold water.

"Since when do you fish people out of rivers?" John asked, stretching his muscles and trying to warm them up.

"I do lots of things when my duty requires it." Anthea replied with a smile.

"Was that all for show? He's not really corrupt, is he?" John asked, feeling unsure about the whole situation.

"Mr Holmes does what is necessary to protect what is his." Anthea said, "But even he wouldn't join the mafia. It would raise awkward questions at work."

"Thank you. Thank you so much." John gushed, suddenly grabbing her and hugging her tight. He couldn't believe that he was alive and safe, after hours of expecting death.

Anthea tensed, immediately uncomfortable by the contact. She allowed it for a few moments before she pushed his arms away. "Come on, we need to swim a little further along before we freeze to death in here." she said.

John nodded and let her lead the way, swimming beside her as best he could whilst he fought exhaustion and hypothermia.

* * *

"John, you're alright!" Sherlock exclaimed as he rushed into John's room in the private hospital he'd been whisked away to.

"Just about." John replied with a smile. He was propped up in the hospital bed, an IV line in his hand but with no other marks on him. He looked tired, but relaxed.

"Going for a swim in the Thames at dawn isn't really recommended." Sherlock pointed out with a chuckle.

"I'll remember that next time I get pushed off a wall and into a river." John laughed, but erupted into coughs instead.

"Mycroft is here." Sherlock said once John had gotten control of his breathing again.

"To visit?" John asked, his voice hopeful but hesitant.

"Yes and no." Sherlock said awkwardly, "John, Mycroft got shot."

"What? How?" John demanded, all humour and relaxation now gone from his face.

"Once you were out of the way, Mycroft's people raided the warehouse and caught the gang. There was a gunfight and Mycroft was hit by one of the bullets fired by the gang." Sherlock explained, "He's fine though, insufferable as always."

"I want to see him. Now." John declared, swinging his legs over the bed and attempting to stand without wobbling.

"John, that's not a good idea." Sherlock said, quickly moving to steady his friend.

"Sherlock, since when did you care about what was a good idea? I won't rest until I see him and he apologizes for pushing me into a bloody river." John argued.


	16. Chapter 16

"You don't seriously think that you can just go back to work, do you?" John said, standing in the doorway and watching Mycroft attempt to pull on a crisp suit jacket.

Mycroft jumped a little and looked over at John, his eyes shining with light when he saw that he was alive and well, "I'm sorry for pushing you into the river, I hope that you weren't in there too long before Anthea got to you." he said, sincerity in his tone.

John strode in and slapped him, "You bloody git, I thought you'd turned on me!" he snapped.

"It was the only way to get you out without putting you in danger. The had to think that we didn't know or care for each other." Mycroft tried to explain, unsure what he could do to soothe John's anger.

"Sit down and take that ridiculous waistcoat off, that can't be doing any good." John sighed, carefully pushing Mycroft back onto the edge of the bed.

"It's a shoulder wound, it will heal." Mycroft protested, but he did unbutton his tailored waistcoat.

"You were shot less than three hours ago, Mycroft. You shouldn't even be walking yet, let alone going back to work." John replied, "Let me look at where the wound is and how they've treated it."

"John, I really think-" Mycroft started but John cut him off with a sharp look.

"You pushed me into the Thames, Mycroft. The least you can do is let me look at your bullet wound." John said, "I'm a doctor, remember? I was also shot in the shoulder, so I know what kind of treatment they will have done."

Mycroft looked as though he might protest again but he thought better of it and unbuttoned his shirt too, pushing it aside to expose his bandaged shoulder.

John clicked straight into doctor mode and unraveled the bandages and lifted the dressing, looking over the wound.

"You're a lucky man." he said, smoothing the dressing back down again with careful fingers, "An inch to the left and you'd be having major surgery."

"The consultant told me as much before you arrived." Mycroft replied, holding still so John could fix the bandages again.

"How are you really? Any pain?" John asked quietly, relaxing a little now he knew that Mycroft would be fine.

"I really am fine, it's nothing that I can't handle, Dr. Watson." Mycroft assured, his voice soft.

John moved closer and pulled Mycroft into a gentle embrace, "Thank you." he said, "I probably wouldn't be standing here today if you hadn't put yourself in danger like that."

"It really is no problem. Dinner?" Mycroft replied as John stepped back.

John nodded, "You got any plans for 7pm?" he asked.

"Text me an address and I'll be there." Mycroft said warmly, buttoning up his shirt and waistcoat again, "I know it is against medical advice, but I must go back to work. I have loose ends to tidy up from this morning that can't wait until my shoulder is better."

"Be careful." John sighed, reluctantly helping Mycroft into his suit jacket.

"I think it's unlikely that I'll be shot twice in one day." Mycroft replied, reaching out and squeezing John's hand carefully, "I'll be careful."

* * *

Mycroft blinked when he read the address on John's text, but he managed to keep his alarm buried deep within his chest. He was a little confused as to how John would have access to his home, but he was curious to find out what the army doctor had planned.

He'd struggled through the day in pain and snapping at his staff and assistants. He hadn't realized how restricting the shoulder wound would be. He felt exhausted and he closed his eyes when he was finally able to have some peace and quiet in the car home.

The car pulled up at his home after a much too short journey and Mycroft struggled out, trying to hold his briefcase and umbrella in one hand. He managed it and even managed to get through the security doors before his good arm complained and he let his briefcase and umbrella clatter to the floor in the hallway.

"Mycroft, are you alright?" John asked, coming down the corridor to greet him.

"Yes. Fine." Mycroft muttered through gritted teeth, rubbing his arm and wincing.

John could see that the other man was in a bad mood so he didn't press him any more, "Come with me to the kitchen, dinner is almost done." he said.

"How did you get in here? I change the codes weekly." Mycroft said as they walked to the kitchen together.

"Sherlock came with me and disabled all of your alarms. It was his idea that I make you dinner here." John explained.

"His idea? I dread to think what he has planned if he wants both of us out of the way." Mycroft muttered, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.


	17. Chapter 17

"Have you considered a career as a chef?" Mycroft asked, placing his cutlery carefully onto the plate as he finished the meal that John had prepared.

John laughed, "I did, actually. But only briefly." he replied, "Army chef didn't have quite the same ring to it."

"Would you like a glass of wine? I think white would go well with dessert." Mycroft said, getting to his feet.

"Should you be drinking with your painkillers?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's exactly why I haven't taken my painkillers all afternoon." Mycroft replied, making his way into the kitchen.

When Mycroft returned, John gave him a look.

"If you're in pain, and I'm sure you are, then you need to take your painkillers." he said.

"My family have a history of substance dependency and painkiller abuse so if it's all the same to you John, I'd rather avoid them." Mycroft replied, sitting down and placing the bottle of wine onto the table.

"A few painkillers after being shot won't make you an addict." John pointed out, pouring the wine into their glasses.

"No, but I'm sure they'll make me drowsy and I have no intention of cutting our evening short." Mycroft replied, lifting his glass.

"I bet you're more fun when you're drowsy." John teased with a pout, lifting his own glass.

"I'm really not." Mycroft laughed, clinking their glasses together before sipping the wine.

* * *

"Did it work?" Sherlock asked, stepping into Mycroft's living room.

"Surprisingly, yes." John replied, carefully moving Mycroft's sleeping body into a more comfortable position, "What was your concoction?"

"Elder-flower lemonade, a tiny bit of vodka and two crushed painkillers." Sherlock replied, leaning against the doorway, "He must have been in pain not to notice."

"Is Anthea in on this too?" John asked.

"Yes. She was just as annoyed at him as you for going back to work so soon." Sherlock replied, "Anthea said that he's been irritated and grumpy all day."

"Sleep and a couple of days off will do him good." John said, sitting on the edge of the sofa beside Mycroft's legs.

"He's been remarkably sentimental about you." Sherlock admitted quietly, "Neither of us have slept or eaten since you were taken."

"Am I going to have to drug you to make you sleep too?" John chuckled softly.

"No." Sherlock replied with a slight smile, "I'll go back to 221B without force."

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I want to make sure he's alright." John said, glancing at Mycroft again.

"Of course not. I'll see you tomorrow, John." Sherlock replied with a nod. He watched Mycroft for a moment before he made his way out of the house. It was difficult to see John wanting to stay with his brother and he was a little jealous, but he recognized how happy the two of them had been since they'd started seeing each other properly.

John watched his flatmate leave before he turned to Mycroft and watched the man breath in his sleep. It was strange to be so close to Mycroft when he was so vulnerable and had his guard down. He smiled to himself and sat down in an armchair opposite the sofa, watching Mycroft until he fell asleep too.


	18. Chapter 18

John slowly woke to find himself still in Mycroft's living room, but now with a gun trained on him from the sofa opposite.

"You do realize that I could have you locked away in MI6 for drugging me?" Mycroft said, his voice cold and his expression blank.

"Put the gun down, Mycroft." John replied, putting his hands in the air, "Sherlock spiked the bottle after Anthea told him that you weren't taking your painkillers."

"You had no right to meddle in my affairs!" Mycroft snapped.

"No, you're right, I didn't. But I bet you feel a hell of a lot better than you did last night." John said.

Mycroft sighed and put the gun down on the sofa beside him, "I don't enjoy feeling weak and powerless, John." he said warningly.

"I know, but you needed to sleep. Just like you need to take your painkillers." John replied, slowly getting to his feet.

"I can get through the next few days without pain relief." Mycroft insisted but didn't move from the sofa.

"Yes, I'm sure that you can, but that doesn't mean that you should." John pointed out, "Please don't be as awkward as your brother. The sooner you take your meds, the sooner I'll leave you alone."

"Fine." Mycroft muttered, recognizing that he wouldn't win against the doctor.

"Good. Stay right there." John replied. He went into the kitchen and returned with two tablets and a glass of cold water.

Mycroft accepted the tablets and quickly swallowed them down with the water, carefully putting the glass down on the coffee table.

"Do I have to check that you've swallowed them?" John asked with a teasing chuckle.

"Absolutely not!" Mycroft exclaimed before his face relaxed and he allowed himself to chuckle too, "I'm not my brother."

"No, you're not." John agreed, sitting down beside the government official, "Mycroft, where do you see our relationship going?"

Mycroft turned to face John in confusion, "Do you not see a future for the two of us?" he asked.

"I'm not breaking up with you. It's nothing like that." John assured, "I just wondered what you saw our future as being like."

"Well, I had hoped that we might one day live together. Although I would understand if you preferred to stay at 221B." Mycroft replied, looking down at his hands.

"I would like us to live together one day too." John replied and smiled a little as Mycroft suddenly looked up, "But in order to live together, we need to trust each other."

"I trust you with Sherlock, the most important thing in my life." Mycroft responded as if it was obvious.

"Yes, I know, but you don't trust me with you." John replied, "If we're going to go any further with this relationship then you can't keep pointing guns at me and not telling me what's going on. You must trust that if I drug you then it's for a very good reason, not that I want to hurt you."

"I'm sorry, John." Mycroft admitted, "I wasn't thinking. My actions were regrettable."

"I don't need to know anything about your work or your state secrets, I just want you to trust me enough to tell me when you feel happy, or sad, or in pain." John said, "I want to help and care for you and the only way I can do that is if you let me in and start trusting me."

"I will try, John." Mycroft assured, taking the doctor's hand, "You have my word. I will try."


	19. Chapter 19

"How was work?" John asked, sipping his glass of wine as he looked over at Mycroft.

"Agreeable." Mycroft replied quickly, picking up his own glass.

"Lots of meetings?" John asked curiously.

"Yes." Mycroft replied with a tight nod.

"You're going to have to travel again soon?" John guessed, picking up on Mycroft's body language.

"Yes." Mycroft nodded, pursing his lips for a moment as he considered John.

"Any idea how long for?" John asked.

"A couple of days, perhaps a week." Mycroft replied, "I don't foresee any unexpected delays."

"Good, that's good." John replied with a nod, putting his wine glass down. There was tension between them tonight and John was unsure what he could do to ease the tension. Mycroft was never truly relaxed after a long day at work, but tonight the government official was clearly tense.

"John, I have something for you. A gift, of sorts." Mycroft declared after a few awkward minutes of silence, gently putting a folder down on the table between them.

John raised his eyebrows and picked the folder up. He opened it and scanned the contents before he looked up at Mycroft again. "This is the Official Secrets Act." he said.

"Yes, it is." Mycroft replied, leaning back in his chair and watching John's face to see how he would respond.

"I presume you want me to sign it?" John asked, "Although I'm not sure if a secrecy contract can be called a gift."

"By signing the Official Secrets Act, you are agreeing to keep any state secrets under lock and key." Mycroft replied, "It is my gift to you, John, because if you sign it then I will be able to discuss more of my work with you."

John looked shocked, glancing down at the government crest on the papers in the file, "I thought you'd have to kill me if you told me anything?" he asked.

"If you sign this then I will no longer have to kill you." Mycroft assured, "I won't be able to tell you everything or give you specific details, but I will be able to share more of my day with you. I will be able to tell you where I am traveling to, for instance."

"Has Sherlock signed this?" John asked curiously.

Mycroft scoffed, "Goodness, no! He would never willingly sign anything to do with me." he replied, "Instead I must verbally warn him not to repeat anything he may see, hear or deduce when in my presence."

"I have already signed the Official Secrets Act, you know. It's a requirement when you go to war." John admitted, putting the folder down on the table.

"Yes, I am aware of the watered down contract that you signed with the Armed Forces." Mycroft replied with a frown, "This is specific to MI5 and MI6, or the Secret Intelligence Service as it is formally known. By signing this, which I have personally prepared for you myself, you will never come to harm from information that you learn whilst being around me."

"Do you mind if I take this home with me? I'd like to actually read it before I sign it." John admitted softly.

"Of course, one should never sign anything that he has not thoroughly examined beforehand." Mycroft agreed with a nod, "Just be careful not to leave it lying around."

"Thanks for this, I do appreciate it." John said with a slight smile, going back to his meal.


	20. Chapter 20

"And he just put it down on the table?" Lestrade asked in disbelief, one hand clasped firmly around his pint of ale.

"Yes, right then and there." John replied with a chuckle, "I've not signed it yet, but I appreciate the thought behind it."

"The Official Secrets Act isn't much of a gift though, is it?" Greg said, sipping his drink, "Couldn't he have just given you a helicopter or a supercar?"

John laughed, "I'm sure he could, but I don't want any of those things." he admitted, "I think it shows that he trusts me, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Greg replied with a nod, "Have you seen him since he gave you the contract to sign?"

"Only briefly. We met for lunch a few days ago." John said, "I think he's wondering why I haven't signed it yet."

"Why haven't you? Don't you want to know more about him?" Greg asked curiously.

"Of course I want to know more about him, Greg." John sighed, "It's just that it seems like a business transaction, you know?"

Greg nodded, "That's the Holmes brothers though, isn't it? All business." he said, "You managed to tame Sherlock, he's hardly any trouble now, I'm sure you can do the same to Mycroft."

"I'm not sure that Mycroft wants to be tamed, Greg." John chuckled, sipping his own pint.

* * *

"When will you be leaving London?" John asked as he sat down with Mycroft for lunch at the end of a long working week.

"Early on Sunday morning. Both Anthea and I will be gone, but my phone will be on just in case an emergency arises." Mycroft replied, picking up the restaurant's menu.

"And where are you traveling to?" John asked as casually as he could manage.

Mycroft met John's gaze over the top of the menu, "You know that I can't tell you that." he sighed.

"You could point it out on a map or tell me the coordinates or give me hints..." John replied.

"No, I can't do any of those things. My destination is just as confidential as my work." Mycroft said sharply, "Why must you always challenge me in this infuriating manor? You know why I can't tell you about my trip and yet you have done nothing to rectify the situation thus far."

"Do you ever come outside of you little confidential world to think about how I feel?" John snapped, his fist clenching a little.

"What on earth do you mean by that?" Mycroft asked with a frown.

"Think about it for a moment. Go on, see if you can work it out." John replied with a glare.

"My actions have upset you." Mycroft said after a few moments of quiet, "Although I am unsure which action in particular has caused your wrath."

"Seriously?" John demanded with a frustrated sigh, "Presenting someone with a confidentiality agreement over dinner isn't exactly romantic, Mycroft."

"I never claimed to be romantic, John." Mycroft replied quietly, "I saw a problem that hindered our relationship and I presented you with a solution. It is your choice whether you accept this solution."

John let out a low growl of anger and got to his feet, "You know what? Forget it." he said, "Enjoy your trip."

"John. John? John!" Mycroft called in confusion as he watched John walk away from him.

* * *

"I thought your brother was better at people than you. It turns out you're both just as infuriating as each other." John said as he slammed the living room door at 221B.

"Has Mycroft upset you? I knew he would." Sherlock said, a smile on his face until he looked up at his flatmate.

"I can't stand it anymore, all of this secrecy and confidentiality agreements..." John murmured, looking down at his phone as it began to ring. He didn't accept or reject Mycroft's call, just letting it ring out.

"If you don't answer it, he'll just ring you again." Sherlock pointed out, slightly alarmed by John's behaviour.

"Yeah, well, he can't call me if the phone is off." John replied, turning the phone off and putting it down on the desk beside his laptop.

"John-" Sherlock started, intending to make a speech about how his brother was an idiot but didn't mean to upset the army doctor.

"No, Sherlock. No." John sighed, turning away and going up to his bedroom with heavy footsteps.


	21. Chapter 21

**Saturday**

7:30am

 _I apologize, I didn't mean to upset you. MH_

10:46am

 _I trust you with my life, John. I want to be able to trust you with my work too. MH_

11:01am

 _I didn't mean for my previous message to come across in that way. I do trust you with my work, I just need to make it official. MH_

3:19pm

 _I don't know what else I can say. MH_

6:22pm

 _Call me, please. MH_

* * *

John scrolled through the text messages he'd received throughout the day from Mycroft with a sigh. He'd hadn't replied to any of them and still had about a dozen missed calls and voicemails to wade through.

It was difficult to stay angry at either of the Holmes brothers as most of the time they had no idea what they'd done wrong. This time, John had explained his feelings to Mycroft and the man had responded with very little interest in his feelings. John didn't want Mycroft to leave the country without them at least being on talking terms. He knew how dangerous the government official's job could be and he wanted Mycroft to understand his views properly before they were parted.

7:31pm

 _Russell Square. 9pm. Come alone. JW_

John knew that his text message would get Mycroft's attention and he hoped that the man would make the time to come and meet with him. He also knew that the Russell Square gardens closed at dusk so if Mycroft pulled some strings, they'd be alone and free to talk.

* * *

John wasn't waiting beside the main gates for long before Mycroft arrived. A black car pulled up at the curb and Mycroft gracefully climbed out, his umbrella clutched tightly in one hand.

"Good evening." Mycroft greeted with a polite smile. He looked pale and exhausted, clearly working too much with too little sleep.

"I was hoping you might have a key. I'd like to talk somewhere private." John admitted, glancing at the locked gates.

"You're in luck." Mycroft replied, pulling a key from his coat pocket. He unlocked the gates and held them open for John before he locked them from the inside.

"Are we alone?" John asked, "No cameras or microphones?"

Mycroft frowned a little, "Why would you think that I would have a microphone on me?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid, Mycroft. Don't play that game with me." John huffed, "I know how extensive your surveillance is. So, answer me honestly, are we alone?"

"Yes, we are alone. I have had all cameras in the area switched off for the duration of our meeting." Mycroft replied with a nod, leading the way towards the fountain.

"And you've not got any bodyguards hiding in the bushes?" John asked.

"No." Mycroft replied, shaking his head, "John, you are beginning to alarm me. Do you intend to harm me?"

John rolled his eyes, "Sit down, Mycroft." he said as they reached a bench.

Mycroft studied John in the darkness before he sat down on the bench, leaning his umbrella beside him.

John sat down beside Mycroft and reached out, gently taking the man's hand.

"I have one question and I need you to answer it honestly." John said quietly, "We're completely alone, no one is listening in. I need you to prove that you trust me. Where are you travelling to tomorrow?"

Mycroft sighed, "John, please understand, I am bound by a secrecy act." he said, "I want to tell you, of course I do, but I have pledged to Her Majesty that I will not reveal state secrets to anyone who has not also signed a secrecy act."

"I will sign your contract, if you tell me where you're going. I'm not trying to trick you, I'm not trying to get you fired, I just want you to trust me. Where will you be travelling to and how long will you be away?"

"That's two questions." Mycroft murmured.

"Yes. I'm going to keep adding questions for you to answer if you continue to dodge me." John replied, squeezing Mycroft's hand, "Where will you be travelling to, how long will you be away and what will you be doing on the trip?"


	22. Chapter 22

Mycroft sighed and considered his options for a moment, looking around at the darkness around them before he looked back at John again.

"I am forbidden from speaking the words." he explained softly. He let go of John's hand and turned it so it was palm up. He then rejoined their hands carefully, making sure that his fingers were pointing down towards John's palm.

"What are you doing?" John asked with a frown.

"Close your eyes." Mycroft replied, waiting until John followed his instructions before he slowly began to gently tap John's palm with one of his fingers.

"Morse code." John murmured with a chuckle, keeping his eyes closed as he focused on the movements on his palm.

Mycroft's slim fingers danced on John's palm, explaining the upcoming trip with dots and dashes.

.. / .- - / - .-. .- ...- . .-.. .-.. .. -. -. / - - / . -. -.- .-. - / ..-. - .-. / .- .-. .-. .-. - -..- .. - .- - . .-.. -.- / ...- / -.. .- -.- ... .-.-.- / - ... . / ...- .. ... .. - / .. ... / -.-. - -. -.-. . .-. -. .. -. -. / -.-. ..- .-. .-. . -. - / - . -. ... .. - -. ... / .. -. / - ... . / .- ... - .-.. . / .-. . -. .. - -. .-.-.- / .- . / .- .-. . / ... . . -.- .. -. -. / - - / ... - .-.. .. -.. .. ..-. -.- / - ..- .-. / .-. . .-.. .- - .. - -. ... / .- .. - ... / . -. -.- .-. - .-.-.-**

John only opened his eyes when he was sure that Mycroft's message was finished.

"Well, that's one way of answering my questions." John chuckled, "Thank you for trusting me, I'm sure you'll enjoy your trip."

"That is doubtful." Mycroft admitted, "Anthea and I will need to travel with more weapons and more security."

"It's a diplomatic mission through, right?" John replied with a frown.

"Yes, but diplomacy can soon turn nasty in unstable and war-torn areas." Mycroft replied, relaxing against the bench, "Am I forgiven now for my earlier bad behaviour?"

"Yes, you are forgiven." John replied with a smile and a roll of his eyes.

"I know that I leave early tomorrow morning, but you're more than welcome to come to the airport." Mycroft murmured gently, "If that is something of interest for you..."

John nodded, "I'd love to wave you off, Mycroft." he admitted with a blush.

"Good. When I return from my trip, we can properly discuss our future." Mycroft replied, "I have no desire to have an important conversation like that in a dark, closed park."

"Please be safe on your trip, Mycroft." John sighed nervously, "I didn't want you to leave without us clearing the air."

"Important discussions should never be put off by travel plans." Mycroft agreed with a nod.

John nodded and suddenly pulled Mycroft close by his tie, kissing his lips in a rough clash.

"John!" Mycroft exclaimed, seemingly scandalized.

"Live a little, Mycroft. There's a beating heart beneath all of those layers of ice. Enjoy yourself a little." John urged.

"I do not enjoy sitting on public furniture whilst my partner insists on public kissing sessions." Mycroft admitted gently, trying not to be too harsh.

"Alright then, back to your place." John declared with a smile, getting to his feet and pulling the government official along by his wrist.

* * *

**Morse code translation: I am travelling to Egypt for approximately 4 days. The visit is concerning current tensions in the whole region. We are seeking to solidify our relations with Egypt.


	23. Chapter 23

"I have more questions." John said as he signed the Official Secrets Act on Mycroft's kitchen counter.

"About my work?" Mycroft asked, holding a glass of wine and watching the smaller man.

"No. About you." John replied, dating the document and placing the pen down, "Do you ever... Have you ever... been physical... with anyone?"

"In a violent manner?" Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No." John blushed, "I meant in a sexual way..."

"Ah, I see." Mycroft murmured, putting his wine glass down on the counter, "Moriarty gave my brother the nickname 'The Virgin', not me."

"Yes, but I don't recall you ever being in a relationship in the entire time I've known you." John admitted.

"I have indulged and experimented in the past." Mycroft admitted, "However, it has been some time since I was last intimate with anyone."

"How long?" John asked curiously.

"Years." Mycroft admitted.

"Wow. Okay." John replied with a nod.

"John, perhaps we could discuss this in the living room?" Mycroft asked, "There is something I wish to tell you."

John nodded and followed Mycroft out of the kitchen and down the hallway into the living room. Once they were both settled in armchairs opposite one another, Mycroft began to speak.

"Both my brother and I are somewhat asexual." Mycroft admitted, "We are capable of enjoying physical activity but we don't actively seek it out."

"But you and I have kissed and you seemed to enjoy that." John replied.

"Yes, that is why I said somewhat asexual." Mycroft sighed, "While my brother has virtually no desire to seek out sexual activity of any kind, occasionally I do feel the need, so to speak."

"Do you 'feel the need' with me?" John asked.

"Yes." Mycroft replied, "You have rocked my world, John."

"Okay, that's good to know." John replied with a smile.

"Because of the way our brains work, the amount of information that flows in with just one look or sound or touch, both Sherlock and I have found that we have hypersensitivity issues." Mycroft explained.

"So touch can be a problem for you?" John asked, "That's why you rarely have sex?"

Mycroft nodded, "Every touch is like receiving an electric shock. It's difficult to explain." he admitted.

"Is that why you wear your three-piece suits? To prevent accidental touch?" John asked.

"You are much more observant than my brother gives you credit for, John." Mycroft replied with a smile, "Yes, aside from the menacing look they give me, my suits also have practicality too."

"So holding hands and kissing is something that you're able to handle?" John asked, suddenly unsure.

"It is." Mycroft assured, "Over time, I have been able to isolate certain parts of my body so touch is no longer an issue. It takes concentration and practice, but now the electric shock feeling is less severe."

John nodded a little, "Thank you for telling me. I'd rather know the truth than make you uncomfortable." he admitted.

"You've just signed the Official Secrets Act, John, you've got nearly as much security clearance as I do. There is almost no truth or secret that has to be kept from you now." Mycroft replied with a smile, sipping at his wine.

"There is one thing I'd like to know about your work." John admitted after a couple of moments of thought.

"Go on." Mycroft replied curiously, studying the doctor.

"Do you ever take leave? Or go on holiday? Are you even allowed to?" John asked, "You seem to work all of the time. During the day, at night, at the weekends..."

"Of all the questions you could have asked, you choose the most obscure one." Mycroft laughed softly.

"It's clear to me that you enjoy the mystery of your job, I'd hate to burst your bubble." John teased.

"Yes, I am entitled to take leave." Mycroft replied, relaxing further into his armchair.

"But you don't take it?" John asked curiously.

"I prefer not to unless absolutely necessary." Mycroft explained, "You've seen Sherlock when he's bored. Neither of us can cope for very long without a puzzle of some sort. Also, my deputies aren't as up to the task as they may think they are. The last time I took a holiday, we invaded Afghanistan. You know personally how disastrous that was."

John laughed, "I do indeed." he agreed.

There was a sudden sound of a window breaking down the hall and both John and Mycroft got to their feet. They both pulled out their handguns and began to move towards the doorway.

Sherlock appeared from the darkness of the hall, hands raised in a sarcastic surrender, "Don't shoot, I'm not a cat burglar." he muttered.

"A cat would be more graceful." Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow, putting his gun back in its holster beneath his jacket, "Which window did you break?"

"One of the kitchen windows." Sherlock admitted guiltily, removing his coat and shaking off the glass shards onto the floor of the living room.

"I'm leaving the country early tomorrow morning, it is going to be incredibly inconvenient to get the window fixed at this hour. I do wish you'd think before you acted, Sherlock." Mycroft scolded with a frown, pulling his mobile out of his pocket.

"Oh no, it looks like we're going to have to do some house-sitting while you're away!" Sherlock exclaimed with mock surprise, "Isn't that terrible, John? We're going to have to spend time in Mycroft's house while he's away!"

"Ermm... I don't know what your plan is but I have a feeling it's not going to be good." John replied with a sigh, glancing between the two brothers.

"Stop trying to keep secrets from me, it's infuriating!" Mycroft hissed at his brother.

Sherlock laughed, "Come on John, let's go and temporarily repair that window."


	24. Chapter 24

"What are you doing here?" John snapped at his flatmate as they made a makeshift covering for the window.

"House-sitting gives us, or you specifically, a good opportunity to snoop." Sherlock replied with a shrug.

"And why would I want to snoop?" John demanded, "This is Mycroft's house, I don't want to go through his things while he's away."

"Come on, John. Aren't you eager to know the secrets behind the Iceman?" Sherlock asked.

"No, actually, I'm not." John replied, "If Mycroft has secrets then it's up to him to tell me about them."

Sherlock sighed and glanced around to make sure Mycroft hadn't appeared in the room, "Fine, it's for a case. Lady Smallwood thinks that the British diplomacy team will be attacked in Egypt."

"What?" John gasped, "But Mycroft is going to Egypt tomorrow. We need to tell him."

Sherlock shushed John, "We can't tell Mycroft anything. The attack must go ahead or the group behind it will know that the British are spying on them." he whispered.

"We can't just let Mycroft go to his death!" John hissed.

"Mycroft won't die. He's clever, he'll be fine." Sherlock replied dismissively, "We're going to be house-sitting because I need access to his surveillance room in the basement so I can track him."

"Are you planning on chipping him too then?" John hissed sarcastically.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Don't be daft, John. MI6 already sorted that out years ago."

John sighed and shook his head, "I don't like this, Sherlock." he said quietly.

"I know, I don't either." Sherlock replied gently.

"What are you two whispering about?" Mycroft asked as he entered the room, a frown still firmly in place.

"Just what experiments I'm going to bring over with me when I'm house-sitting tomorrow." Sherlock replied cheerily.

"You'd better be joking." Mycroft replied, glaring at his brother.

"If only you knew..." Sherlock teased, glancing at John.

John raised his hands, "I have absolutely nothing to do with this." he admitted, "Sorry about the window."

Mycroft shook his head a little, "It's alright. I have Sherlock for a brother so I should expect these sorts of things by now."

"Will you give me a hand fixing this cardboard over the window?" John asked, "You're a bit taller so I need you to hold it."

"I could hold it." Sherlock offered, jealous at not being chosen by John.

"I think you've done enough damage for one day, don't you brother dear?" Mycroft replied, leaning over the counter and holding the cardboard over the window.

John leaned up and carefully secured the edges of the cardboard with duct tape, "There. That should do." He said with a nod, stepping back.

Mycroft glanced at his watch, "It's gotten rather late now, I'd better get ready for my trip." He said.

"Have you packed yet?" John asked.

"I believe Anthea has arranged for some suitable formal attire to be awaiting me at our hotel." Mycroft replied.

"Anthea packs for you?" John chuckled, "Wouldn't you prefer to do that yourself?"

"I don't have enough time in my day to pack and arrange clothing, John." Mycroft explained, "I'll be in the air in a few hours and I've yet to even begin packing my flight bag."

"Come on, I'll help you." John said, "You Holmes' are terrible at practical things."

"Sherlock and I are different people, you know." Mycroft replied with a chuckle.

"Lead the way then." John prompted with a smile.

"I'll be going now. Enjoy your trip." Sherlock said with a nod to Mycroft.

"Please use the door on your way out, Sherlock." Mycroft replied with a warm smile.

John glanced back at Sherlock and they shared a look before they both turned away.

"Should I be worried by my brother's behavior?" Mycroft asked John as they walked upstairs together.

"I don't think so." John replied, "I doubt he'll actually bring his experiments with him. He just likes to wind you up."

"I know." Mycroft admitted with a sigh, "It's not his experiments that I'm worried about."


	25. Chapter 25

"John, would you care to stay here tonight?" Mycroft asked after the flight case had been packed and John was preparing to leave.

"If it's alright with you then I definitely like to stay over." John replied with a smile and a nod.

"I don't mean for us to be intimate tonight." Mycroft admitted quietly, "I just feel that I will miss your company greatly whilst I am away and I would very much like to spend the hours before my flight here with you."

"Okay. That's fine. No pressure." John assured gently, "I'll miss you too while you're away. Will you be able to text me?"

"I dislike texting immensely." Mycroft admitted.

"But you texted me earlier?" John replied with a curious smile.

"Yes, well, you wouldn't return my calls." Mycroft said awkwardly.

John laughed, "You're completely mad." he teased.

"Thank you." Mycroft replied with a small smile, "But no, sadly, I will not be able to be in contact with you. During diplomacy negotiations, contact with the outside world is frowned upon."

"Oh. Okay, well, let's make the most of tonight then." John said with a wink.

* * *

John lay on his side, watching Mycroft sleep in the bed beside him. There hadn't been any physical intimacy, but John wasn't disappointed. To be allowed to share a bed with Mycroft Holmes, to be trusted enough to see Mycroft with his guard down was something that John would remember while they were parted. He was worried about letting Mycroft walk into a dangerous situation, but he knew that Sherlock wouldn't be letting it go ahead unless he was sure that Mycroft would come out of the attack unscathed.

"It's rude to watch someone while they're sleeping, you know." Mycroft murmured, his eyes remaining closed and his body relaxed beneath the duvet.

"It's not rude if they're pretending to be asleep." John replied with a smirk.

Mycroft opened his eyes and smiled to John, "I was asleep, but your burning gaze woke me." he murmured.

"You're worried about the trip." John said quietly.

Mycroft slowly turned onto his side to face John properly, "I am." he admitted.

"Why? What worries you?" John asked, reaching out to touch him but hesitating.

Mycroft reached out and carefully joined their hands on top of the covers, "I can't name it or put my finger on it, but I have a strange feeling." he murmured.

"I'm sure it'll be fine." John replied, keeping his gaze steady and trying not to give away what he knew.

Mycroft nodded, "Thank you for staying. I didn't want to spend the night apart from you, especially given the dread I feel towards this trip."

"Are you sure that the dread you feel isn't being projected by the Egyptian diplomats? They must be worried with the great Mycroft Holmes on the way to speak to them." John chuckled.

"You make me sound like some sort of god." Mycroft murmured, "I am but a man. We are all but men in the end."

"Okay, drag yourself out of that gutter. No more talk of death and misery tonight." John decided.

"Oh John, there is so much I wish to tell you. So much I wish to do with you." Mycroft sighed.

"And you can tell me those things and do those things with me when you get back." John replied, "It's a week, Mycroft, not a life sentence."

"I wish I could share your optimism. Your glass half full way of life sounds wonderful." Mycroft murmured, squeezing his hand and closing his eyes.

* * *

"Am I allowed to kiss you?" John asked quietly as they stood together on the tarmac, waiting for the plane to be ready.

"My employees are aware of my orientation." Mycroft replied softly, "Why?"

"I just thought that you might have a rule or something, you know, about not wanting your employees to see your soft side." John explained.

Mycroft laughed, "My employees can see as much of my soft side as they like. The trick is keeping your negotiating, poker side separate from your soft side."

"Sir, the plane is ready for take off." Anthea called, walking over to them.

"Thank you, Anthea." Mycroft replied with a nod of his head, handing her his flight case.

"Will you promise me that you'll look after him?" John asked Anthea, meeting her eyes.

"I promise." Anthea replied, holding his gaze for a few moments before she turned away.

"Right then. Off we go." Mycroft murmured, turning to face John.

"Mycroft, I want you to know-" John started.

"No. Not here. Not now." Mycroft interrupted, "You'll say those words to me and I'll say them to you when we are alone and when we are truly ready."

John nodded, "Be careful." he said, leaning up for a kiss.

"You too." Mycroft replied, meeting John's lips. The kiss was chaste and short, but it was enough.

John pulled away and leaned back down again.

Mycroft stepped back and lifted John's hand, placing a kiss on the other man's knuckle, "Until we meet again." he said with a tight smile.

"Bye." John murmured, holding Mycroft's gaze for as long as possible.

Mycroft turned away and walked towards the plane, glancing back once before the door shut and the private jet took off.

John sighed and leaned back against the car that would take him back to 221B. He didn't know whether Mycroft knew what he'd be walking into or if the government official's feelings of dread had purely been instinctual gut feelings.

"Please God, let him live." John murmured, watching as the jet disappeared into the clouds.


	26. Chapter 26

Dust.

Where had all the dust come from?

Mycroft was lying on his back on the floor, looking up at the plumes of dust that seemed to be coming from every angle. He closed his eyes and tried to think back, to work out why he was lying down and where he was.

There had been screaming and shouting at one point, but now all he could hear was high-pitched ringing. A blast of some kind, then.

A bomb, Mycroft realised with a shock. There had been a bomb and he was lying in the wreckage. It had been a deliberate attack on them.

He tried to sit up but was stopped by a heavy weight covering his body from the chest down. The weight seemed to move and then there was Anthea, looking down at him with worried eyes. She was bleeding, he slowly realised, reaching up to touch her face.

'Stay still.' Anthea urged in quick sign language, 'You're injured.'

Mycroft frowned a little and thought about her words. He didn't feel injured or in pain.

'Adrenaline.' Anthea signed, 'You'll start feeling the pain soon.'

Mycroft nodded a little, that made sense. Adrenaline was known to mask pain in varying degrees.

Why did Anthea have to explain it to him? Shouldn't he have already deduced everything he needed to know? His head felt like it was spinning and his thoughts were jumbled and slow.

Head injury.

Possible brain injury.

'Calm down.' Anthea ordered in sign language, 'You hit your head, it's probably concussion.'

He wanted to scream, _but what if it isn't_?

* * *

"So that was the bomb going off?" John asked as they watched the footage from the helicopter in Cairo. They were sat in Mycroft's secure, underground surveillance room beneath his large house.

"Yes, it's not the best angle, but the smoke coming from the building confirms it." Sherlock replied, tapping away on the computer.

"So how can we see where Mycroft and Anthea are?" John asked.

"That's them." Sherlock said, pointing to one of the monitors that had two flashing dots on.

"They're still in the building." John said with worry.

"Yes, they're probably in the wreckage somewhere but they're together and still alive." Sherlock replied.

"How do you know they're alive?" John asked curiously.

"The dots wouldn't be flashing if they were dead." Sherlock explained.

"This is crazy, Sherlock. They're probably injured and we're just sitting here watching like it's reality TV." John sighed.

"We can't interfere." Sherlock replied, "Lady Smallwood sought me out for a reason. She believes someone in MI6 is a mole. Our job is to track Mycroft and Anthea, nothing more. MI6 are focused on investigating the mole."

"When you say track them...they're bait aren't they?" John asked with a sigh.

"Possibly." Sherlock replied with a apologetic smile.

* * *

Mycroft swallowed, dust coating his mouth and throat, and suddenly the ringing stopped. His hearing seemed to have had a rest and was back online again.

"Anthea?" he spoke quietly.

"Can you hear me now?" Anthea asked with a smile.

"Obviously." Mycroft murmured, "What's the damage?"

"I'm no doctor so don't sue me if I'm wrong." Anthea warned, "You hit your head when we were thrown across the room in the blast. You've got a nasty gash on your forehead and I think you've got concussion."

"My thoughts are slow. Something's wrong." Mycroft said.

"You don't know that." Anthea replied gently, "Please stop worrying about it. We need to focus on getting out of here."

"There's more, isn't there?" Mycroft murmured, pain beginning to sear through him as the adrenaline began to wear off.

"You've got glass in your leg and a pretty big chunk of metal in your chest." Anthea admitted.

"Is that why you're lying on me?' Mycroft joked.

"It's not a move to seduce you if that's what you were thinking." Anthea teased, "I'm trying to use my weight to stop you from bleeding out. You've already lost a lot of blood."

"How badly are you injured?" Mycroft asked.

"Not as bad as you. A few cuts, some broken bones." Anthea replied with a shrug.

"All in a day's work." Mycroft muttered with a weak chuckle.

* * *

"Here we go. Movement." Sherlock declared as the two flashing dots began to move across the screen.

"They're moving pretty quickly for two people who have just been in a bomb blast." John admitted, watching the dots move through the building.

"I think they're being carried." Sherlock said, "That means that our bait has been taken."

"So who is taking them?" John asked, his worry building again.

"Only one of the most dangerous terrorist groups in the region." Sherlock replied with a smile, "This tells us that the MI6 mole has direct links to the group."

"It also tells us that Mycroft and Anthea are in a lot more danger." John sighed.


	27. Chapter 27

Mycroft woke suddenly as a black cloth bag was pulled away from his head. The sudden light was dizzying and the sudden change in location was disorientating. He couldn't remember when he'd slipped into unconsciousness but he was relatively sure that it was a long time ago. As his senses began to come back online again, Mycroft realized that he could hear Anthea talking. Her voice was fast and clearly worried, it was also clear rather than faint so she was obviously in the same room. After some time and some intense concentration, Mycroft managed to force his brain to compute the words that she was saying.

"I know you speak English!" Anthea hissed, "There's no point in kidnapping us if you just let him bleed out! He needs a doctor!"

"Be quiet, woman!" one of the kidnappers hissed.

"No! How dare you treat us in this manner!" Anthea argued, "You have taken us in order to make the British Government give you money. The least you could do is treat us well. Your argument is not with us."

"Who do you think you are?" the man laughed, aiming his gun in Anthea's direction.

"I am Anthea Holmes. Wife of Mycroft Holmes." Anthea replied in defiance, "Now point your gun elsewhere and go and fetch a doctor for my husband. If we are dead then the British Government won't pay out a single penny to you."

 _Anthea Holmes_? Mycroft thought to himself, trying to remember where they were and how they'd ended up in some sort of hostage situation. He didn't remember a wedding ceremony or living with anyone, but he couldn't remember much at that particular moment. His brain felt as though it had been well and truly shaken.

The man seemed to consider Anthea's words as he left the room and locked the door behind him.

Anthea immediately shuffled over to Mycroft once they were alone, "How are you feeling?" she asked. She was wearing a black headscarf that covered her hair and her wrists were tightly bound with cable ties.

"Where are we?" Mycroft groaned out, dizziness hitting him like tidal waves.

"Do you remember where we were before we were here?" Anthea asked gently, her expression becoming more worried.

Mycroft took a moment to figure out the meaning in her words before he spoke, "No. You're going to have to tell me." he admitted quietly.

"We were in Cairo and we were caught in a bomb blast." Anthea explained, "We've now been captured and I'm trying to convince them to let a doctor examine you."

"I don't...I don't remember our wedding..." Mycroft admitted, stumbling over his words as confusion reigned supreme in his mind.

Anthea frowned at him a little, "Okay. Well, it was very nice." she lied, trying to keep him calm and relaxed while she figured out what to do with him. Pretending to be husband and wife had always been their back-up undercover plan, but she was worried now Mycroft didn't seem to remember that plan.

"Just nice?" Mycroft murmured in a weak attempt at a joke.

"Mycroft, I need you to repeat these four words to me, okay? Cairo. Bomb. Anthea. Wife." Anthea said gently, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Cairo. Bomb. Anthea. Wife." Mycroft replied as best he could.

"Good, that's really good." Anthea assured, "I need you to remember those four words, okay? I'm going to ask you to repeat them back to me in a little while so you need to remember them, okay?"

"Like a test?" Mycroft murmured.

"That's it, just like a test." Anthea replied gently, smiling down at him despite the fear in her eyes.

* * *

John watched the flashing dots on the screen anxiously as Sherlock paced the room, reading out co-ordinates and discussing strategy with the team at MI6. Although John used to love the adrenaline rush that danger brought but this whole situation just made him feel sick to his stomach. He'd let Mycroft walk into the bomb blast and now he had no idea whether the man was injured or being tortured or anything. The only lifeline he had, the only thing that connected him to Mycroft, was the flashing dot on the screen.

"They'll be fine." Sherlock reassured for the hundredth time once his call was over, "The dots are still flashing and they clearly haven't been separated."

"How can you be so relaxed about this?" John demanded, turning to face him, "You just sent your brother into a room with a bomb in it! Now, you're calmly planning their extraction from within the heart of a terrorist group!"

"At least I'm not just staring at a screen!" Sherlock argued, the strain beginning to show, "This is a carefully planned MI6 operation, John! We need to take a step back, we need to be soldiers!"

"Soldiers." John murmured with a sigh, looking away.

"Even if Mycroft is injured, Anthea will keep him going." Sherlock said, sitting down beside his flatmate, "She's not employed because she's good at admin."

"I know. It just feels so wrong when it's our family in the middle of this." John replied.

* * *

A doctor was shoved into the room, still wearing his stethoscope, and Anthea immediately began briefing him on Mycroft's condition. The man moved towards the elder Holmes brother and began to examine him.

"How long has he been unconscious for?" the man asked.

"About ten minutes. He was talking while he was awake. We were able to have a conversation but he's confused and doesn't remember things." Anthea explained.

"Okay." the man replied with a nod, putting down his medical bag and pulling out a few instruments, "We need to get that chunk of metal out of his chest and then I need to seal the wound to prevent more blood loss."


	28. Chapter 28

When Mycroft next woke, he was surprised to find himself feeling better. The pain was virtually gone and his head finally felt clear and like he could think again.

"Hello." Anthea said with a smile, leaning over him, "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better." Mycroft admitted.

"Good. They sent in a doctor to sort you out." Anthea explained, "All of your wounds have been dealt with and you've been given some tablets to take for your head."

"Is it concussion?" Mycroft asked, attempting to sit up.

"Yes, apparently you're very lucky it wasn't much worse." Anthea replied, carefully helping him to lean against the wall with her bound hands.

"So we're still hostages then?" Mycroft asked, taking in her appearance and the room that they were being kept in.

"Yes, I believe MI6 are debating their options." Anthea said, leaning against the wall beside him.

"Have you eaten anything or drunk any water?" Mycroft asked, his eyes sweeping over her pale face.

"No. The doctor sorted out my breaks and my cuts, but they haven't given us any refreshments yet." Anthea replied, "Can you remember the four words I told you to remember?"

"Cairo. Bomb. Anthea. Wife." Mycroft said without any hesitation.

"You had me worried for a while." Anthea admitted, "You were talking about not remembering our wedding."

Mycroft chuckled and took her bound hands in his, "How could I forget the wedding, Anthea dear?" he said with a wink.

The door flew open and one of the masked kidnappers entered with a gun trained on them, "Get up!" he ordered in heavily accented English.

* * *

"Oh look, we've been sent a hostage video!" Sherlock exclaimed, the excitement in his tone undeniable.

"Put it on then." John huffed in frustration. Sherlock's apparent joy while his brother was being held hostage was beginning to grate on him.

 _"Hello British Government."_ Mycroft said, reading aloud from a piece of paper he was holding in his right hand. His left hand was being held by Anthea who was sat beside him. Two armed, masked men stood behind them with loaded guns trained at the hostage's heads.

 _"By now you will have realized that we have taken two of your diplomats - Mycroft and Anthea Holmes."_ Mycroft continued to read, _"You need to send us £20,000,000 or we will kill both hostages."_

"John, I think that's live." Sherlock murmured as he watched the screen.

"Live?" John replied with a frown, "Don't kidnappers send recorded videos?"

 _"By now you will have worked out that this video is being broadcast to you live."_ Mycroft read, _"You have 15 minutes to make an initial payment of £1,000,000 or we will kill the hostages."_

"Bloody hell, Sherlock. What are we going to do?" John asked, his eyes focused on Mycroft's disheveled and bloodstained appearance.

Sherlock dialed a number on his mobile phone and began speaking with the MI6 control room who'd also been watching the video.

"Do you have anyone on site yet?" he asked as he paced, "Then you're going to have to pay, the guns are loaded. Yes, I'm well aware of how much money they're asking for."

* * *

Mycroft glanced over at Anthea once he'd finished reading the script. She met his eyes and a silent plan passed between them.

Anthea leaned in and grabbed Mycroft's face with her bound hands, pressing her lips to his in a rough kiss.

Mycroft pulled her onto his lap, continuing the kiss and giving Anthea cover as she worked to remove his belt.

"Western pigs!" one of the armed men hissed, "Stop or I'll shoot."

"If you shoot, you don't get paid!" Anthea taunted, recapturing Mycroft's lips once more.

* * *

"What the hell are they doing?" John demanded, standing up as he watched Anthea and Mycroft making out on the screen.

"It's a distraction." Sherlock realized, stopping to watch for a moment before he began barking orders at the agent on the other end of the line, "Get a helicopter up. I don't care how much it costs or where you get the helicopter from, you need to raid from above."

"It better just be a distraction." John muttered, jealously rushing through him.

* * *

Mycroft counted the seconds off in his head as he and Anthea went for it in front of the camera and their kidnappers. As soon as they reached the five minute mark, he tapped Anthea's hip gently to tell her he was ready for the next part of the distraction.

Anthea sprang up to her feet and swung Mycroft's belt wildly, hitting two of the kidnappers in the face with the belt buckle. Mycroft moved quickly to get hold of both loaded weapons before they hit the floor. He fired at the two men Anthea had hit with the belt, taking them down but not killing them.

Mycroft ducked as the two men behind the camera fired their guns at them. Anthea hit the floor beside him, a bullet lodged in her side.

"Put the guns down!" one of the men ordered and Mycroft did as he was told, putting the two guns down and moving to put pressure on Anthea's wound.

"Alright, dearest?" he murmured.

"That went well." Anthea replied, trying to ignore the pain.

"Other than you getting shot." Mycroft pointed out.

"Yes, other than that." Anthea agreed.

* * *

 _"Read!"_ one of the remaining men hissed at Mycroft, pulling him away from Anthea and shoving another script at him.

John watched with worried eyes as Mycroft took the paper with Anthea's blood all over his hands.

 _"You have 5 minutes."_ Mycroft read, _"We look forward to killing the hostages slowly and on camera so you can watch."_

"Are you in position? Good. Go in now before they have chance to regroup." Sherlock ordered the agent on the other end on his phone.

* * *

Mycroft looked up as the ceiling above him seemed to shake as a loud band echoed throughout the building. He prayed that the cavalry had arrived to get them out. As men began shouting around them, Mycroft threw himself over Anthea to cover her from any stray bullets.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr Holmes?" Anthea teased.

"No, I'm trying to stop you from bleeding out, Mrs Holmes." Mycroft replied with a slight chuckle, moving his weight so he could press down on her wound. There was another bang from above before the ceiling gave out and dust reigned down on them.


	29. Chapter 29

"Mycroft?"

"It's time to wake up now, Mycroft."

A voice broke through the fog in his mind. Mycroft was asleep, or he had been before someone had decided to wake him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed or at peace. His body felt heavy but his mind felt free. As he slowly dragged himself out of his slumber, thoughts and deductions began firing across his mind. He could feel someone touching his hand and somewhere nearby was the sound of beeping machines.

"Mycroft?" the voice called again, "Can you hear me?"

"It's obvious that he can hear you." came another voice, sharper and less friendly in tone. _Sherlock_.

"I'm trying to be comforting." the other voice replied with a sigh. _John_.

"Open your eyes, brother. There's no point pretending to be asleep while you're rigged up to various monitoring devices." Sherlock declared with a smirk.

Mycroft let out a slight groan as he forced his eyes to open. It took multiple attempts at blinking before he was able to focus his vision on the room and his visitors.

"Anthea?" he murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"He's lost to us if he thinks you're Anthea." Sherlock said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

John rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Sherlock. You're not helping." he said, "Anthea is fine. She's in the room next door."

"How long have I been in hospital?" Mycroft murmured, clearing his throat a little.

"This is the second day you've been here." John replied, "You were extracted from the terrorist group and flown home. Do you remember being rescued?"

"I remember the ceiling fell on us and the dust, but nothing else." Mycroft admitted.

John nodded, "That's understandable, it must have been very traumatizing."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You don't have to treat my brother as though he is a weak and feeble child." he said.

"I know that, Sherlock!" John snapped, turning to face his flatmate, "Do you need to be here?"

"Are you telling me to leave?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. I am." Mycroft said with a cough, "I need some quiet and you two arguing isn't helping."

"Fine. Suit yourselves." Sherlock replied, flouncing from the room.

John turned back to Mycroft and allowed a warm smile to light up his face, "Hi." he said.

"Hello John. It's good to see you." Mycroft replied with a smile.

John cleared his throat a little, swallowing back the wave of emotion that suddenly hit him, "I didn't think I was going to see you again." he admitted.

Mycroft squeezed John's hand gently, "I was unsure whether I would be returning." he admitted.

"Anthea looked after you, just like she promised to. Remind me to get her a bouquet or something, won't you?" John replied.

"I am very grateful to her for doing her duty." Mycroft replied with a nod of agreement, "Is my stay in the hospital precautionary?"

"Yes and no." John admitted, "They had to redo some of the treatment that was done to you by the other doctor and they were worried about the concussion."

"Will there be lasting damage?" Mycroft asked.

"No. You might experience some amnesia, maybe even some PTSD, but it won't hinder your mental faculties." John replied.

"Good." Mycroft replied with a relieved smile, letting himself relax more into the pillows.

John stood up and leaned over, gently kissing the elder Holmes brother before he stepped back again, "I really am so pleased to see you." he said, "You should try to sleep again."

"Did you just increase the dosage on the morphine while you were kissing me?" Mycroft asked with a slight frown.

"No..." John replied with a wink, "Close your eyes and rest, Mycroft. I can relax a bit too now I know you're okay."

"That's very unethical, you know..." Mycroft murmured, beginning to drift off into sleep.

"I know, but the rest will do you good." John assured, smiling a little.


	30. Chapter 30

"I had thought that I'd escaped the hostage situation, but clearly I was wrong." Mycroft declared as the doctor insisted that he stay in the hospital for another day and night of observation.

"I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, but we don't want to take any chances." the doctor replied with a sigh, "If your test results remain steady then you should be released in a couple of days."

"A couple of days? Why has my incarceration now been extended even further?" Mycroft demanded with frustration.

"Mr Holmes, you are here to recover." the doctor replied, "Please use this time to rest and recuperate."

"Mycroft, are you giving the doctor a hard time?" John asked from the doorway, holding two cups of coffee.

"The man insists that I must stay here when I am clearly fit to leave." Mycroft replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Mycroft doesn't like being told what to do." John said as the doctor practically fled from the room, "You really need to be nicer to your doctors, Mycroft."

"Why? There are clearly incapable of doing their jobs." Mycroft replied with a frown.

John sat down beside the bed and looked over the elder Holmes brother, "Have you decreased your morphine again?" he asked, "I've told you three times not to do that in the last 48 hours."

"I have no intention of becoming addicted to morphine, John. I refuse to have it flowing freely through my veins." Mycroft replied.

John rolled his eyes, "You're clearly in pain, Mycroft. You're not going to become addicted." he said, handing the man a cup of coffee, "I'm going to increase the dose when it's time for you to sleep, you need your rest."

"I don't appreciate being sedated, John." Mycroft replied, sipping his coffee.

"No, but your body does. These last few days of bedrest have done you good." John said, "I'm considering sedating you every night to ensure you get at least seven hours of sleep."

Mycroft frowned, "That's not funny, Dr. Watson." he pouted.

"Back to titles again, Mr Holmes?" John replied with a raised eyebrow.

"One can hardly be on first name terms with one's jailer." Mycroft said with a slight smile.

"Jailer, eh? I quite like the sound of that." John replied, leaning in for a kiss.

"You two are so sweet." Anthea said from the doorway, smiling at the two of them.

"I hope you don't mind me stealing away your husband, Mrs Holmes?" John teased Anthea with a smile.

"Of course not. How could I keep you two apart when you're clearly so in love?" Anthea laughed, entering the room and coming to stand on the other side of the bed.

"Why are you allowed to walk around when I am confined to a bed?" Mycroft complained, watching his assistant.

"Because I do what the doctors tell me to do." Anthea replied, "They only keep the difficult patients in bed."

"I am not difficult." Mycroft said with a dramatic sigh.

"No, but you are fragile." John replied, "You were caught up in two attacks within a matter of days."

"The second was a rescue, not an attack." Mycroft protested.

"A ceiling and lots of rubble fell on you, Mycroft. It wasn't exactly plain sailing." John said.

"Why must you always be right?" Mycroft muttered, but there was no bite behind his words.


	31. Chapter 31

"You're looking a lot better." John admitted as he strolled around Green Park with Mycroft.

"Thank you." Mycroft replied, swinging his umbrella a little as they walked, "I haven't been able to spend as much time resting as I would have liked."

"That's why the hospital were so keen to keep you in." John said with a chuckle, "They knew you'd go straight back to work."

"I can't sit around in the house, John." Mycroft replied, keeping his gaze on the path ahead of them.

"I know someone else like that." John chuckled, "Don't tell me, your mind stagnates and boredom reigns supreme?"

Mycroft's glanced at him and let a chuckle escape his Iceman mask, "You know us Holmes too well."

John sighed a little, "I thought I'd never see you again, Mycroft." he admitted quietly, clearing his throat a little, "Did you get that bouquet for Anthea in the end?"

"I bought her the biggest bouquet that I could find. It was truly magnificent and took up virtually her whole desk." Mycroft replied, slowing to a stop, "John, I had a lot of time to think while I was sedated."

John rolled his eyes playfully, "Exploring your mind palace were you?" he teased.

"Yes, it needed a spring clean." Mycroft replied, humour in his tone.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" John asked, shaking his head a little.

"John, I am in love with you." Mycroft declared, reaching out and taking the ex army doctor's hand, "I have never felt as strongly for anyone as I do for you."

"Mycroft, I love you too." John admitted quietly, squeezing the other man's hand, "But there is something that I need to tell you."

"Let's sit down." Mycroft replied, pulling him over to a nearby bench.

"I knew about the bomb. Both Sherlock and I knew." John said quietly once they were both sitting down, "I sent you off to get blown up."

Mycroft laughed softly, "John, I knew about the bomb." he replied, "Anthea and I had been expecting an attack in Egypt for some time."

"What?" John asked with a frown, "Then why did you go?"

"The attack needed to succeed for the culprits to be caught." Mycroft explained, "Playing bait is one of the many things that Anthea and I have to do in our roles."

"Did you expect to then be kidnapped?" John asked.

"Not entirely." Mycroft admitted, "We thought that the terrorists would be clever enough to keep us apart, but apparently they underestimated Anthea."

"She really is a secret agent, isn't she?" John chuckled.

"Yes. She is one of the best." Mycroft replied with a nod, "She has saved my life on more than one occasion."

"There have been more bombs and kidnappings?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You have no idea." Mycroft chuckled.

"Perhaps you could tell me about them?" John suggested, "Over dinner, for instance?"

"That sounds acceptable." Mycroft agreed with a nod, "What are your plans for after dinner?"

"More of this, really." John replied, leaning in and kissing Mycroft lovingly.


End file.
